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FROM    THE   LIBRARY   OF 


REV.    LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON.   D.  D. 


BEQUEATHED    BY    HIM    TO 


THE    LIBRARY   OF 


S 


PRINCETON   THEOLOGICAL   SEMINARY 


I** :  W       i 


-^ 


M 


3 


A   REVIVAL  OF  OLD   WAR   SONGS. 



A     PICTURESQUE     OLD     MINSTREL.  ' 
From  The  Chicago  Evening-  Post. 

Jules  Lumbard  is  in  the  city.  To  those  who  wit- 
nessed the  exciting  scenes  in  1862-63  in  Chicago  and 
survive  to  tell  the  tale  this  name  conveys  a  touch 
of  magic.  It  inflamed  the  cowards*  hearts  with 
heroism.  Many  mothers  mourned  the  loss  of  their 
sons  because  of  "Old  Jules'  "  instrumentality  in 
calling  upon  this  country's  patriots  at  a  critical 
juncture.  To  see  the  old  minstrel  again  will 
bring  vividly  to  mind  the  picture  of  "Jules" 
standing  in  the  centre  of  a  war-roused  gather- 
ing at  the  old  City  Hall  Square  when  he 
launched  for  the  first  time  America's  immortal 
battle  hymn.  "The  Battle  Cry  of  Freedom."  His 
figure  may  be  a  trifle  stouter  and  bent.  But  the 
leonine  head,  framed  by  long,  silvery  locks,  will 
make  his  figure  not  a  whit  less  impressive  at  the 
coming  memorial  concert.  His  voice  may  not 
possess  the  same  volume  and  range  that  it  did 
when  raised  for  freedom,  but  his  friends  claim 
that  the  spirited  pitch  of  yore  has  not  yielded  to 
age. 

To  represent  "Old  Jules"  Lumbard  in  hie  true 
light,  it  may  be  said  that  if  the  late  Dr.  George  F. 
Root  is  credited  by  American  historians  as  the  most 
powerful  composer  of  native  war  songs,  Jules  Lum- 
bard's  memory  will  be  revered  as  their  greatest  ex- 
ponent. Dr.  Root  produced  and  "Jules"  rendered 
them  with  masterly  skill  at  a  time  when  they  re- 
sounded from  one  end  of  the  country  to  the  other. 
Omaha,  where  Jules  Lumbard  now  resides,  has  ob- 
scured his  former  fame,  but  old  Ohicagoans,  who 
know  his  worth,  promise  to  cheer  his  declining  days 
with  many  tokens  of  their  attachment. 

None  can  dwell  more  interestingly  upon  this 
quaint  figure  than  the  reminiscent  assistant  of 
Postmaster  Hesing. 

"I  came  to  Chicago  in  September,  1863,"  says  he. 
"At  the  time  3,000  prisoners  were  under  guard  at 
Camp  Lincoln.  Great  crowds  assembled  every  day 
and  evening  at  the  City  Hail  Square.  Old  Bryan 
Hall,  which  belonged  to  the  "old  man  eloquent," 
was  then  the  chief  meeting  place  in  Chicago.  It 
was  situated  on  Clark-st.,  just  opposite  the  court- 
house, and  was  the  auditorium  of  that  period. 
Jules  and  his  brother,  Frank  Lumbard,  were  at  that 
time  known  as  the  foremost  singers,  and  they  had 
no  competitors  throughout  the  West.  Jules  was  not 
only  a  mas'erly  singer,  but  a  good  fellow.  The 
mere  mention  of  these  two  names  was  sufficient  to 
bring  crowds  together.  "Long  John"  Wentworth 
was  also  a  power  in  those  days.  Dr.  George  F. 
Root  was  a  member  of  the  firm  of  Root  &  Cady, 
who  kept  a  music  store  in  Bryan  Hall  Block.  When 
I  first  met  the  doctor  I  was  a  boy.  He  impressed 
me  as  the  gentlest  man  on  this  earth.  I  came  to 
know  him  intimately.  Our  tastes  for  music  ran  in 
the  same  direction.  Soon  after  I  came  to  Chicago  I 
joined  the  choir  of  the  Second  Presbyterian  Church. 
Miss  Fannie  Root  sang  soprano  in  that  choir,  and 
through  her  I  naturally  became  well  acquainted 
with  Dr.   Root. 

"It  was  Jules  Lumbard  who  gave  the  first  render- 
ing of  his  great  'Battle  Cry  of  Freedom.'  The 
Occasion  was  a  memorable  one.  Recruiting  tents 
were  pitched  in  the  pubh'c  square  and  a  great 
throng  gathered  to  hear  the  song.  I  imagine  I  can 
still  see  that  scene  as  I  look  down  the  street.  The 
tune  and  the  words  were  such  that  the  people  knew 
them  after  they  were  repeated  twice.  Jules  stood 
on  the  courthouse  steps,  and  his  powerful  voice 
drowned  every  other  sound.  Then  the  crowd  took 
up  the  refrain  and  the  chorus.  The  recruiting  tents 
did  a  thriving  business  a  few  minutes  Inter.  Regi- 
ments were  organized  and  the  war  feeling  ran  high. 
Jules  and  his  brother  Frank  were  called  upon 
every  time  they  were  corralled  in  a  crowd.  Upon 
several  occasions  Jules  went  to  the  front  among 
the  soldiers  and  sang  the  hymns,  which  live  on,  al- 
though the  soldiers  die  and  are  forgotten.  In  these 
hu-tfing  times  we  do  not  stop  to  think  of  the  many 
fiootsore    weary  soldiers  who  imbibed  new  life  from 


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THE  STOR 


SgW  OF  PHiHSfy 
VOCT   6   1931 


OF 


A  MUSICAL  LIFE 


AN    AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
BY 

GEO.  F.  ROOT. 


CINCINNATI  : 
Published  by   THE    JOHN    CHURCH    C  O.   74  W.  4th  St. 


-Chicago- 


-New  York- 


Root  &  Sons  Music  Co. 
200  Wabash  Ave. 


The  John  Church  Co. 

13  East  1 6th  St. 


Copyright,  1S91,  by  The  John  Church  Co. 


PREFACE. 


OCTOBER  i,  1888,  was  the  fiftieth  anniversary  of  my 
leaving  home  to  commence  my  musical  life.  On 
that  occasion  we  had  a  family  gathering,  at  which  were 
commenced  the  series  of  narrations  which  have  grown 
into  this  book. 

They  were  mostly  written  in  1889,  and  that  will  ac- 
count for  the  mention  of  the  names  of  some  people  who 
have  died  since  that  time. 

Special  prominence  could  have  been  given  in  this  work 
to  the  orderly  arrangement  of  such  musical  statistics  and 
items  of  musical  history  as  come  within  its  scope,  but 
such  a  plan  would  have  interfered  with  my  story,  as  such, 
so  those  matters  have  been  allowed  to  come  in  as  wanted, 
without  reference  to  their  chronological  order. 

I  do  not  like  the  appearance  of  self-praise  that  I  have 
to  assume  while  recording  in  this  book  certain  sayings 
and  events  which  refer  to  myself  and  my  career.  I  hope 
the  reader  will  see  that  my  story  would  not  be  complete 
without  them,  and  on  that  ground  excuse  the  apparent 
egotism.  G.  F.  R. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

1820-1838 — Birth — Leaving  Home— Harmony  Hall — First  Piano 
Lessons— Early  Musical  Conditions — Two  Tunes  for  Prayer 
Meeting — The  Odeou, 3 

CHAPTER  II. 

1838-1839,  Boston— My  First  Pupil— A  New  Bargain— The  Flute 
Club — First  Voice  Lessons — Some  of  the  Prominent  Teach- 
ers, Authors,  and  Concert  Performers  of  Early  Days — David 
and  Goliath — Some  Remarks  about  Simple  Music — My  First 
Singing  Class — Mr.  Woodbury — My  Venerable  Pupil  from 
Maine— The  "  Old  Corner  Bookstore," 13 

CHAPTER  III. 
1S40-1844,  Boston — Partnership — First  Efforts  as  Organist  and 
Choir  Leader — The  First  Teaching  of  Music  in  Public 
Schools — The  Teachers'  Class  of  the  Boston  Academy  of 
Music  and  my  First  Efforts  at  Vocal  Training  in  Classes — 
The  Old  Marlboro'  and  my  Unintentional  Critic — Bowdoin 
St.  Choir  and  my  Intentional  Critic — Boston's  First  Boat 
Club— Call  to  New  York, 24 

CHAPTER  IV. 
1844-1847,  New  York — Abbott's  School  for  Young  Ladies — Rut- 
gers Female  Institute — Miss  Haines'  School — The  Union 
Theological  Seminary — The  New  York  Institution  for  the 
Blind  and  the  Mercer  St.  Presbyterian  Church — My  Mar- 
riage— My  Quartet  and  Performance  at  the  Philharmonic — 
Summer  Convention  Work  with  Messrs.  Mason  and  Webb — 
Mr.  Jacob  Abbott's  Advice  about  the  Way  to  Keep  a  Diary,  .     37 


vi  TABLE   OF   CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   V. 

184S-1S49,  New  York — Spingler  Institute—  Adding  Difficulties  to 
the  Musical  Work  of  my  Classes — Reference  to  Dr.  Mason's 
First  "  Singing  School  " — My  First  Efforts  at  Composition 
and  Book-making — Different  Musical  Grades— Jenny  Lind,     49 

CHAPTER  VI. 

1850-185T,  New  York  and  Paris —  Getting  Ready  for  a  Trip 
Abroad —The  Voyage— Arrival  in  Paris — A  Few  Words  on 
the  Stud}-  of  a  Foreign  Language — The  Singing  at  the 
Madeleine — Lessons  from  Alary  and  Potharst — A  Musical 
Compatriot — Gottschalk — Memorable  Concerts,  .        .58 

CHAPTER  VII. 

1 85 1,  Paris  and  London — Fourth  of  July — The  Conversational 
Mode  of  Learning  French,  and  the  Romance  that  Followed 
— Two  Concerts  at  Exeter  Hall,  London — The  Loyalty  of  the 
English  to  Old  Favorites— The  First  World's  Exposition — 
American  Friends— The  McCormick  Reaper — The  Sewing 
Machine — The  Day  &  Newell  Lock— The  Yacht  America — 
The  Narrow  Escape  on  the  Home  Voyage,       .        .        .        -69 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

1851-1853,  New  York  — "The  Flower  Queen"  and  the  First 
"  Rose  "— "  Wurzel  "  and  "  The  Hazel  Dell  "—My  Best  Piano 
Pupil— The  First  Normal  Musical  Institute — "  Daniel  "  and 
Early  Books— The  New  House  at  Willow  Farm,  and  the 
Singing  in  the  Village  Church— My  First  Musical  Conven- 
tion—The Value  of  a  Specialty— The  Old  Violin— Early  Or- 
chestras,        ......  ....     81 

CHAPTER  IX. 

1853-1855,  New  York — A  Frank  Statement — Geniuses  in  Music— 
"  The  Shining  Shore  "—Early  Books — The  First  American- 
made  Doctor  of  Music— Early  Conventions  at  Richmond,  Va., 
and  in  the  West — Preparing  to  Leave  New  York — How  the 
"  Normal  "  went  to  North  Reading, 95 


TABLE   OF   CONTENTS.  Vll 


CHAPTER  X. 


1856-1859,  North  Reading,  Mass. — A  Great  School  in  a  Small 
Town — A  Visit  from  Henry  Ward  Beecher  and  Mrs.  Stowe — 
Nathan  Richardson  and  "  Rosalie,  The  Prairie  Flower  " — 
Writing  at  Willow  Farm—"  The  Haymakers  "—The  Begin- 
ning of  Bar  Training  in  Classes,  for  Harmony — "  Except  Ye 
Become  as  Little  Children  " — Distinguished  Visitors — Rela- 
tive Profits  of  Cantata  Maker  and  Cantata  Giver — Composi- 
tions as  Property, 107 

CHAPTER  XI. 

1859-1861,  North  Reading  and  Chicago — Prominent  Members  of 
the  Normal  Institute — Writing  at  Willow  Farm — Our  Simple 
Music  in  England -Root  and  Cady — The  Currency — The 
Greater  the  Refinement,  the  Smaller  the  Coin  — Chicago  in 
1858 — The  "  Cameraderie  "  in  a  New  Country — Conventions 
on  the  Prairie— Land  Sharks — First  Organ  Book — The  First 
Gun  of  the  War, 120 

CHAPTER  XII. 

1861-1870,  Chicago — Writing  the  War  Songs— Some  Incidents 
Concerning  Them— Henry  C.  Work— P.  P.  Bliss— "  The  Song 
Messenger  of  the  Northwest " — The  Origin  of  "  Tramp  "— 
Growth  of  Business— James  R.  Murray  and  "  Daisy  Deane  " 
— B.  R.  Hanby— Caryl  Florio— Dr.  Mason's  Last  Normal— 
The  Normal  at  South  Bend,  Ind.— The  Origin  of  "  National 
Normal" — Carlo  Bassini, 132 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

1871-1873,  Chicago— The  Health  Lift  and  the  Astonished  Piano 
Movers  —  The  Gigantic  Lottery  Scheme— Our  Successful 
Publications,  including  Dr.  Palmer's  and  Mr.  Bliss's  Early 
Works— Heav>^  Stock— The  Great  Fire— My  Green  Box- 
Mr.  Curwen's  Gift — New  Business  Arrangements — The  Nor- 
mal of  '72— The  Sad  Telegram, 148 


Vlll  TABLE   OF  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

1S73-18S6,  Chicago — Business  Re-adjustments — Various  Normal 
Institutes  and  Conventions  —  The  Memorable  Centennial 
Year — Park  Church  at  Elmira— Grasshoppers — A  Further 
List  of  Books — English  Editions — Passage  Taken  to  Cross 
the  Water  Again,  . 160 

CHAPTER  XV. 

On  Board  the  Steamer  Ethiopia — Glasgow— First  Sunday  in 
London — St.  Martin's-in-the-Fields— Interludes — The  Lon- 
don Sunday-School  Union — The  Curwens — Voluntary  Roy- 
alties—Heme  House — Mr.  Evans  and  the  London  Public 
Schools, 170 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

The  Work  of  the  Tonic-sol-fa  College— Mr.  Behnke's  Light  to 
the  Throat — England  and  Dickens — The  Boys  of  the  Med- 
way  Union — Don— The  Staffordshire  Potteries  and  the  Burs- 
lem  Singers — Epping  Forest  and  the  Lawn  Party  at  Forest 
Gate — Rev.  John  Curwen's  Grave — The  Choir  of  the  Chapel 
Royal— Mr.  J.  A.  Birch  and  "  The  Haymakers,"        .        .        .177 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

The  Parish  Church— Traditional  Chanting— The  "  Swanley  Boys  " 
— The  Hall  of  Parliament — A  Reception  on  Mr.  Curwen's 
Lawn— Forty  Conductors — The  British  Museum — A  Musical 
Catalogue— One  of  the  London  "  Choirs"— The  South  Lon- 
don Choral  Institute — Dr.  Allon's  Church  at  Islington — My 
Sixty-sixth  Birthday  —  The  Crystal  Palace  and  "Autumn 
Winds  " — The  Concert  on  the  City  of  Rome,   ....  188 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Home  Again— The  "Pillar  of  Fire"  and  Other  Cantatas— The 
Idea  of  "Cantatas  for  the  People"— Mr.  and  Mrs.  J.  S.  Cur- 
wen's Visit  to  America — "  War  Song  "  Concerts — The  Loyal 
Legion — The  Usual  History  of  Musical  Societies  —  How 
"  The  Haymakers  "  Helped  Out— Family  Matters,  "  Roots 
and  Branches"— The  Hyde  Park  Yacht  Club  and  the  Sum- 
mer Congregation  on  the  Lake, 200 


TABLE   OF  CONTENTS.  ix 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

The  John  Church  Co. — The  Principals  of  the  House— Their 
Homes— Ancestral  Descent — The  Memorable  Celebration  at 
the  Hyde  Park  High-School— Mr.  John  Church's  Death- 
Preparations  for  the  World's  Columbian  Exposition — My 
Piano  Trade— My  Seventieth  Birthday—  Vale  f        .        .        .208 

APPENDIX. 

Books,  223 

Sheet  Music, 225 

MUSIC. 

Slumber  Sweetly,  Dearest, 228 

A  Voice  from  the  Lake, 229 

I  Will  Lay  Me  Down  in  Peace, 232 

There  Is  a  Stream, 233 

The  Hazel  Dell, 234 

Rosalie,  the  Prairie  Flower, 237 

The  Battle  Cry  of  Freedom, 240 

Just  Before  the  Battle,  Mother, 243 

Tramp  !  Tramp  !  Tramp  ! 246 

The  Vacant  Chair, 250 

There's  Music  in  the  Air, 253 

The  Shining  Shore,    .  256 


THE  STORY 
OF  A  MUSICAL  LIFE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

1 820-1 838 — BIRTH — LEAVING  HOME — HARMONY  HALE — FIRST 
PIANO  LESSONS — EARLY  MUSICAL  CONDITIONS — TWO  TUNES 
FOR   PRAYER-MEETING — THE   ODEON. 

I  WAS  born  in  Sheffield,  Mass.,  August  30,  1820,  but  my 
father  moved  to  North  Reading,  not  far  from  Boston, 
when  I  was  six  years  old,  and  there  my  youth  was  spent. 

I  was  always  very  fond  of  music — not  singing  at  all  as  a 
boy,  but  playing  a  little  upon  every  musical  instrument  that 
came  in  my  way.  At  thirteen  I  figured  that  I  could  "  play 
a  tune  "  upon  as  many  instruments  as  I  was  years  old. 
Such  an  achievement  in  the  light  of  to-day  looks  entirely 
insignificant,  but  in  our  isolated  village,  and  in  those  days,  it 
was  regarded  as  something  rather  wonderful.  There  was  a 
chronic  curiosity  in  the  village  choir  as  to  what  instrument 
the  boy  would  play  upon  next. 

The  dream  of  my  life  was  to  be  a  musician.  I  did  not 
know  exactly  what  kind,  or  how  to  get  started.  I  thought, 
perhaps,  I  could  make  a  beginning  as  second  flute  in  some 

3 


4  THE    STORY    OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

theater  orchestra.  It  wasn't  reputable,  I  knew  (as  people 
regarded  the  matter  then),  and  relatives  and  friends  were  all 
opposed  to  it.  Indeed,  any  line  of  music,  as  a  business,  in 
those  days  was  looked  down  upon,  especially  by  the  more 
religious  and  respectable  portion  of  the  community.  So  I 
knew  I  should  have  to  fight  my  way.  I  ought  to  except 
my  mother.  It  was  either  an  unaccountable  faith  in  my 
ability  to  succeed,  or  so  much  love  in  her  tender  heart  that 
she  could  not  bear  to  thwart  me,  and  she  said,  "  Go,  my  son, 
if  you  find  the  opportunity ;  I'll  get  along  in  some  way." 
I  knew  well  what  that  meant — my  father  and  the  brother 
next  younger  than  myself  being  both  in  South  America,  and 
six  younger  children  to  care  for — hard  times  certain — pos- 
sibly privation ;  but  I  had  the  hardihood  of  the  inexperi- 
enced youngster  that  I  was,  and  said,  "Mother, just  let  me 
get  a  start  and  you  shall  never  want  for  anything."  I  thank 
the  Lord  that  I  was  able  to  make  that  promise  good. 

But  to  go  on  with  my  story :  During  the  summer  of 
1838  a  member  of  Mr.  A.  N.  Johnson's  choir  in  Boston  spent 
a  few  weeks  in  our  village.  She  had  a  great  deal  to  say  in 
praise  of  her  teacher  as  leader  and  organist,  and  of  his  great 
success  as  the  conductor  of  the  Musical  Education  Society, 
to  which  she  also  belonged.  She  described  Harmony  Hall, 
on  Tremont  Row,  where  the  society  met  and  where  Mr. 
Johnson  taught,  and  enlarged  generally  upon  musical  mat- 
ters in  that  connection  until  I  thought  it  would  be  heaven 
on  earth  to  be  in  the  midst  of  such  opportunities.  I  did  not 
see  how  that  could  ever  happen  for  me,  but  it  did. 

Just  after  the  departure  of  this  much-envied  member  of  a 
Boston  choir,  a  neighbor  (a  young  man  a  few  years  older 
than  myself)  invited  me  to  go  with  him  to  a  little  town  near 
Worcester,  where,  as  I  afterward  ascertained,  some  negotia- 
tions of  a  particular  and  very  interesting  nature  to  him  were 
pending.  These,  I  am  happy  to  say,  terminated  to  his  entire 
satisfaction. 


THE    STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   UFE.  5 

That  journey  was  to  me  also  a  very  important  event. 
The  only  railroad  going  west  from  Boston  then,  ended  at 
Worcester.  The  hardy  traveler  who  would  go  farther  in 
that  direction  must  climb  hills  and  descend  into  valleys  and 
wind  along  by  the  streams  in  the  old-fashioned  stage-coach. 
It  was  my  first  railroad  ride,  and  the  luxury  of  it,  and  the 
wonder  of  it,  I  shall  never  forget. 

On  our  return,  it  was  owing  to  what  then  seemed  a  seri- 
ous dilemma  that  I  was  enabled  so  soon  to  go  to  Boston  to 
live.  My  friend  must  be  at  home  on  the  morning  of  a  cer- 
tain day.  To  accomplish  that,  we  must  be  driven  from  the 
place  of  our  visit  to  Worcester  to  take  an  afternoon  train  to 
Boston,  where  we  were  to  be  met  and  taken  to  North  Read- 
ing at  night.  Had  that  program  been  carried  out  I  should 
have  gone  through  Boston  without  stopping,  but  in  Wor- 
cester, where  we  had  an  hour  to  wait,  my  friend  went  to 
attend  to  some  matters  in  which  he  did  not  need  my  com- 
pany, and  I  went  to  the  music  store,  where  I  became  so  much 
absorbed  in  the  instruments  and  music  that  when  I  came  to 
myself  the  train  was  gone.  There  would  not  be  another 
until  the  next  morning,  and  I  had  no  money.  I  was  in 
great  trepidation,  but  soon  bethought  myself  that  my  mother 
had  a  second  cousin,  who  was  a  theological  student,  some- 
where there.  So  I  trudged  out  to  the  seminary,  and  fortu- 
nately found  him.  He  was  very  kind — "  glad  to  do  anything 
for  a  son  of  cousin  Sarah  " — so  he  kept  me  till  morning  and 
then  gave  me  money  enough  to  take  me  home.  It  is  unac- 
countable that  I  did  not  think  at  the  time  of  that  money 
as  anything  to  be  returned.  I  suppose  I  associated  it  with 
supper,  lodging  and  breakfast  as  a  matter  of  hospitality,  and 
soon  the  whole  affair  passed  from  my  mind.  It  was  per- 
haps twenty  years  afterward,  on  hearing  my  mother  speak 
of  "  Cousin  Edwin  "  and  his  ministry,  that  I  recalled  the 
event,  and  then  came  a  realizing  sense  of  my  delinquency. 


6  TIIK    STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL    LIFE. 

It  did  not  take  long  to  figure  double  compound  interest  on 
the  amount  he  gave  me,  and  send  him  the  money. 

(  )n  my  way  to  Boston  I  determined  to  call  on  Mr.  John- 
son at  Harmony  Hall,  and  see  if,  by  any  possibility,  there 
could  be  an  opening  for  me  there.  How  well  I  remember 
ascending  the  stairs,  and  knocking  at  the  door.  How  well 
I  remember  the  somewhat  astonished  countenance  of  the 
blonde  gentleman  who  let  me  in.  What  he  said  afterward 
of  that  interview,  not  being  very  complimentary  either  to 
my  personal  appearance  or  my  modesty,  I  omit,  but  he  did 
happen  to  want  some  one  to  stay  in  the  room  while  he  was 
out — to  see  to  the  fires  and  the  general  order  of  the  place,  to 
answer  questions  about  his  engagements,  and  to  make  him- 
self generally  useful,  and  he  said  I  might  come.  He  ques- 
tioned me  as  to  what  I  could  do.  Could  I  sing?  No.  Could 
I  play  at  all  upon  the  piano?  No.  I  had  seen  the  key- 
board of  piano  or  organ  but  a  few  times  in  my  life,  but  I 
could  play  the  flute  pretty  well,  and  some  other  instruments 
a  little.  Well,  the  first  thing  would  be  to  learn  to  play  the 
piano,  and  I  could  practice  whilehe  was  out,  which  was  most 
of  the  time,  as  the  private  lessons  he  then  gave  were  nearly 
all  at  tli'-  houses  of  his  pupils.  I  could  board  at  his  house, 
and  he  would  for  the  present  give  me  three  dollars  a  week 
beside.  This  was  munificent.  Three  dollars  was  a  great 
deal  of  money.  If  I  could  get  fitted  out  with  suitable  clothes 
I  could  save  some  of  my  "  salary  "  from  the  very  start,  and  I 
knew  well  what  I  wanted  to  do  with  it. 

I  have  thought  many  times  .since  how  extraordinary  it 
was  in  Mr.  Johnson  to  take  me  as  lie  did,  for,  from  his  own 
representation,  I  could  not  have  been  a  very  promising  sub- 
ject. I  do  not  understand  it  now,  but  am  glad  to  think  that 
I  could,  and  did,  in  some  measure,  repay  his  kindness  to  a 
friendless  boy  in  the  immediate  wars  which  followed. 

On  my   way   home   from    Boston,  in   the  old  stage-coach, 


THK   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE.  7 

after  the  interview  and  agreement  with  Mr.  Johnson,  I  was 
in  another  world.  The  ride  in  the  wonderful  cars  was  noth- 
ing to  this.  That  was  on  iron  rails,  this  was  in  the  golden 
air.  The  dusty  old  towns  through  which  we  passed  were 
beautiful  as  never  before ;  even  the  mulleins  by  the  wayside 
were  transformed  into  more  gorgeous  flowers  than  ever 
bloomed  in  garden  or  conservatory.  How  often  had  I  felt 
cramped  in  the  limited  surroundings  and  opportunities  of 
the  old  home.  How  many  times  I  have  walked,  after  the 
day's  work  was  over,  through  dreary  forest  roads,  to  neigh- 
boring towns  to  exercise  my  musical  powers  with  some 
embryo  performer  like  myself,  or,  late  "  in  the  stilly  night," 
as  a  lone  serenader,  unknown,  unexpected  and  unchallenged, 
to  breathe  my  sighs  for  freedom  through  the  old  four-keyed 
flute.  But  no  more  of  this.  I  was  going  where  the  air  was 
filled  with  music,  and  pent-up  desires  and  ambitions  could 
have  unlimited  freedom. 

There  was  great  excitement  when  I  reached  home.  I 
was  really  going  to  Boston  to  study  music — must  be  at  my 
post  on  the  first  day  of  the  next  month.  On  the  strength 
of  my  prospects  I  borrowed  a  little  money  of  my  grand- 
mother for  an  outfit,  and  went  around  telling  the  good  news 
to  interested  and  sympathizing  neighbors.  All  met  me  with 
good  words.  "Go  ahead!"  they  said;  "we'll  lend  a  hand 
on  the  farm  if  we're  needed."  They  believed  in  me  music- 
ally, and  as  for  my  mother  there  was  not  a  person  in  the 
town  who  would  not  do  her  a  kindness  if  he  had  the  oppor- 
tunity. 

At  last  the  important  first  day  of  October  arrived.  I 
wheeled  my  trunk  down  the  willow  lane  to  the  main  road, 
about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  (our  place  was  called  "  Willow 
Farm  "),  to  wait  for  the  old  stage-coach  that  lumbered  b}' 
every  morning  on  its  way  to  the  city.  An  hour  passed 
and  no  stage.     I  forget  how  I  found  out  that  it  had  been 


8  Tin-:  STORY  of  a  musical  life. 

□  off— had  made  its  last  journey  the  day  before.  The 
new  railroad  from  Lowell  to  Boston  had  taken  so  many  of 
its  passengers  that  it  would  no  longer  pay  to  run  it.  But 
I  must  get  t<»  Boston  that  day.  What  was  I  to  do?  Our 
nearest  neighbor,  ,-  Uncle  Mike,"  as  everybody  called  him. 
said:  "Why,  we'll  make  that  very  railroad  carry  ye  there. 
Old  Pete  and  I'll  take  ye  over  to  Wilmin'ton,  and  you'll 
catch  the  cars  afore  night."  So  Uncle  Mike  harnessed  up 
and  took  trunk  and  me  six  miles  to  the  new  railroad,  where, 
by  ii,ood  fortune,  I  had  not  long  to  wait  for  a  train.  Then, 
with  thanks  and  a  good-bye  to  the  old  neighbor,  I  left  for 
aye  the  old  life,  and  in  due  time  arrived  in  the  city,  and  at 
Mr.  Johnson's  house  at  the  "North  End." 

The  next  morning  I  commenced  the  duties  and  pleasures 
of  my  new  vocation  in  Harmony  Hall,  as  Mr.  Johnson's 
music-room  was  called.  This  place  was  leased  by  the  Mu- 
sical Education  Society,  but  Mr.  Johnson  had  the  use  of  it 
for  conducting  the  society  once  a  week.  It  was  a  light, 
cheerful  room,  up  one  flight  of  stairs;  a  platform,  with  a 
piano  on  it  at  one  end,  and  a  little  curtained  office,  with  a 
desk,  at  the  other.  After  being  told  what  my  duties  in  re- 
gard to  fires  and  care  of  room  would  be,  I  went  with  eager- 
ness to  the  piano  for  my  first  lesson.  The  idea  of  calling  it 
drudgery — this  making  musical  sounds  upon  a  pianoforte — 
nothing  could  be  more  absurd,  as  it  seemed  to  me.  It  was 
a  delight,  even  though  my  large,  clumsy  fingers  would  go 
right  in  the  simplest  exercises  of  Hunten's  Instruction  book 
only  by  the  most  laborious  practice.  But  that  was  cheerfully 
given.  Every  minute  when  Mr.  Johnson  was  out,  or  when 
I  was  not  answering  a  call  at  the  door,  I  was  at  work,  and 
during  Mr.  Johnson's  lessons  in  the  room,  while  I  was  out 
of  sight  at  the  curtained  desk,  I  was  trying  to  get  some  flexi- 
bility into  my  stubborn  fingers,  while  looking  over  some 
music-book.     I    had    learned   to  read   the   notes  of  simple 


THE   STORY    OF  A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  9 

music  both  on  treble  and  base  staffs  by  the  various  instru- 
ments I  had  played. 

When  I  say  I  had  never  sung,  I  do  not  mean  that  I  had 
never  used  my  voice  at  all  in  that  way.  I  had  occasionally 
joined  in  the  base  of  simple  church  tunes,  but  was  never 
encouraged  by  listeners  to  continue  my  performances  long, 
or  to  make  them  prominent.  It  was  always : — "  George, 
you'd  better  take  your  flute."  But  Mr.  Johnson  said  that 
if  I  was  going  to  teach  I  ought  to  be  able  to  use  my  voice 
correctly,  and  sing  at  least  enough  to  give  examples  of  tone 
and  pitch.  I  dare  say  he  saw  then,  what  I  realized  after 
awhile,  that  I  had  begun  too  late  to  make  much  of  a  player 
upon  piano  or  organ,  and  that  if  I  developed  any  gift  for 
teaching,  my  success  must  be  in  singing-classes  and  other 
vocal  work.  So  I  went  at  it.  I  sang  in  the  Musical  Edu- 
cation Society  and  in  Mr.  Johnson's  choir  at  the  Odeon,  and 
often  growled  a  base  to  my  five-finger  exercises  while  prac- 
ticing. 

But  here  I  ought  to  say  something  about  the  condition 
of  music  in  our  part  of  the  country  in  those  days.  Not 
many  years  before,  a  singing-school  had  been  held  in  the 
old  red  school-house,  where  "  faw,  sol,  law,  faw,  sol,  law,  me, 
faw,"  were  the  syllables  for  the  scale — where  one  must  find 
the  " me  note"  (seven)  to  ascertain  what  key  he  was  sing- 
ing in,  and  where  some  of  the  old  "  fuguing  tunes,"  as  they 
were  called,  were  still  sung.  I  well  remember  how,  shortly 
after,  we  heard  that  a  new  system  of  teaching  music  had 
been  introduced  into  Boston,  in  which  they  used  a  black- 
board and  sang  "do,  re,  mi,"  etc.,  to  the  scale.  But  how 
silly  "  do  "  sounded.  We  thought  it  smart  to  say  that  the 
man  who  invented  that  was  a  doug/i-head,  and  how  flat  were 
fa  and  la,  in  comparison  with  the  dignified  "  faw  "  and  "  law." 
Later,  however,  when  some  tunes  connected  with  the  new 
movement  came,  we  changed  our  minds  about  the  man  who 


IO  THE    STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE. 

was  at  the  head  of  it.     Nothing  before,  so  heavenly,  had 

heard  as  the  melody  to  "Thus  far  the  Lord  hath  led 

me  on"  (Hebron) ;  and  one  of  the  great  things  in  going  to 

ton  was  that   I  should  probably  see  Lowell  Mason. 

It  is  an  interesting"  fact  that  some  music,  at  every  grade, 
from  lowest  to  highest,  has  in  it  that  mysterious  quality 
which  makes  it  live,  while  all  the  rest  fades  away  and  is  for- 
gotten. Sometimes  I  think  the  more  we  know  the  less 
keen  are  our  perceptions  in  regard  to  that  divine  afflatus. 
We  understand  better  the  construction  of  the  music  we 
hear,  but  do  not  feel,  as  in  more  unsophisticated  states,  the 
thrill  of  that  mysterious  life — at  least  I  do  not,  and  I  put  it 
forth  as  a  possibly  true  theory  in  general,  because  every 
tune  that  produced  that  enchanting  effect  upon  me  then, 
lives  in  the  hearts  of  the  people  now,  while  those  that  did 
not  have  dropped  out  of  use. 

Certain  it  is,  if  music  writers  and  publishers  could  know 
of  every  composition  whether  it  had  in  it  that  mysterious 
vitality  or  not,  there  wTould  be  far  less  music  issued,  for  but 
few  musical  compositions  in  proportion  to  the  number  print- 
ed have  in  them  the  elements  even  of  a  short  life. 

I  worked  steadily  at  my  piano  lessons,  and  got  on  well, 
considering  the  obstacles  I  had  to  overcome  in  my  growm- 
tip  hands.  But  piano  playing  wras  not  then  what  it  is  now, 
by  a  difference  that  it  wrould  be  hard  to  describe.  A  piano 
in  a  country  town  was  a  rarity,  and  a  person  even  in  Boston 
who  could  play  as  well  as  hundreds  of  young  people  all 
over  the  country  now  play,  would  have  attracted  universal 
attention. 

I  think  I  could  not  have  been  practicing  more  than  two 
weeks  before  Mr.  Johnson  started  me  in  the  playing  of 
chords  by  the  method  that  has  since  been  so  well  known 
under  the  name  of  Johnson's  Thorough  Base.  By  this 
means  I  was  to  learn  to  play  Hebron  and  Ward  and  Ham- 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  II 

burg  and  Boylston,  and  all  those  tunes  that  had  moved  me 
as  no  music  had  ever  done  before.  I  need  not  say  that  I 
worked  with  a  will,  but  I  remember  well  that  I  was  in  a 
chronic  state  of  astonishment  that  my  hands  would  not  do 
what  I  saw  so  clearly  should  be  done,  and  that  I  must  play 
a  succession  of  chords  over  so  many,  many  times  before 
they  would  go  without  a  hitch. 

It  was  not  long  after  this  that  Mr.  Johnson  said  to  me 
one  day;  "I  wish  you  would  learn  two  of  those  tunes  to 
play  at  the  Wednesday  night  prayer-meeting."  "  What !  play 
for  the  people  to  sing?"  "  Yes  ;  you  can  do  it;  you  need  not 
play  the  tune  through  first;  just  play  the  first  chord,  and 
then  start,  and  they'll  all  go  with  you.  It  will  be  all  the 
more  sure  if  you  sing  the  first  word  or  two."  "  But  I  shall 
make  some  mistakes,  I'm  afraid."  "Well,  if  you  do  they 
won't  be  noticed."  "But  I  may  run  against  a  stump  and 
stop."  "Well,  they'll  go  on,  and  you  can  catch  up  at  your 
leisure."  Talk  about  courage !  I  mean  on  Mr.  Johnson's  part. 
He  would  take  more  and  greater  risks  of  that  sort  than  any 
man  I  ever  knew.  But  he  knew  I  would  strain  every  nerve 
to  accomplish  what  he  wished,  and  he  always  said  he  could 
rely  on  my — I  think  "  self-confidence"  was  the  term  he  used, 
but  there  is  a  much  shorter  word  now  coming  into  our  vo- 
cabulary which  would  perhaps  have  expressed  his  meaning 
more  forcibly.  However,  I  went  through  it,  and  after  that, 
for  some  months,  prepared  my  two  tunes  every  week  for  the 
prayer-meeting. 

This  church  arrangement  was  peculiar.  It  was  a  Con- 
gregational church,  under  the  pastoral  care  of  Rev.  Wm.  M. 
Rogers,  then  one  of  the  most  popular  clergymen  of  Boston. 
Its  services  were  held  in  what  had  been  the  Federal  St.  The- 
ater (corner  of  Federal  and  Franklin  Streets),  but  was  now 
called  the  "Odeon."  It  was  owned  or  leased  by  a  new  or- 
ganization called  the  "Boston  Academy  of  Music," and  used 


12  THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

exclusively  by  that  association  and  this  Congregational 
church.  It  had  been  somewhat  remodeled,  though  it  had 
still  the  theater  look.  The  stage  was  fitted  with  raised  seats 
for  a  large  chorus.  There  was  a  large  organ  at  the  back, 
and  a  conductor's  platform  in  front,  occupied  on  Sundays  by 
the  minister's  pulpit.  Lowell  Mason  was  at  the  head  of  the 
Boston  Academy  of  Music,  and  the  conductor  of  its  large 
chorus,  and  George  James  Webb  was  the  organist,  but  on 
Sundays  Mr.  Johnson  was  the  organist,  and  his  choir  the 
performers.  The  prayer-meetings  were  held  in  a  long  room 
over  the  front  entrance,  called  "  The  Saloon."  I  don't  think 
that  word  was  then  used  at  all  as  the  name  of  a  drinking 
place.  It  had  more  the  signification  of  drawing-room  or 
parlor.  I  don't  know  how  it  came  to  be  applied  to  that 
little  hall,  but  as  I  remember  the  notices,  they  would  sound 
strangely  now: — "The  Sunday-school  after  service  in  the 
saloon ;  "  "The  ladies'  meeting  Tuesday  afternoon  in  the  sa- 
loon ;"" The  prayer-meeting  Wednesday  evening  in  the  sa- 
loon ;  "  and  there  we  had  our  choir  rehearsals,  and  later,  sing- 
ing classes,  so  that  in  those  days  that  word  became  con- 
nected in  my  mind  with  all  that  was  "pure  and  lovely  and 
of  i^ood  report,"  instead  of  bearing  the  bad  signification 
which  attaches  to  it  now. 


THE   STORY   OF  A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  13 


CHAPTER   II. 

1 838-1 839,  BOSTON — MY  FIRST  PUPIL — A  NEW  BARGAIN — THE 
FLUTE  CLUB — FIRST  VOICE  LESSONS — SOME  OF  THE  PROM- 
INENT TEACHERS,  AUTHORS,  AND  CONCERT  PERFORMERS 
OF  EARLY  DAYS — DAVID  AND  GOLIATH — SOME  REMARKS 
ABOUT  SIMPLE  MUSIC — MY  FIRST  SINGING  CLASS — MR. 
WOODBURY — MY  VENERABLE  PUPIL  FROM  MAINE — THE 
"  OLD   CORNER   BOOKSTORE." 

I  DO  not  think  it  could  have  been  more  than  six  weeks 
from  my  beginning  with  Mr.  Johnson  that  I  had  an- 
other surprise.  One  day  a  young  man  called  to  inquire 
about  taking  lessons  upon  the  piano.  He  was  a  mechanic 
— an  apprentice  to  a  jeweler  I  think.  Mr.  Johnson  asked 
him  if  he  could  play  at  all.  No,  he  knew  nothing  about 
music  whatever.  Mr.  Johnson  reflected  a  moment  and  then 
said,  as  if  it  were  the  result  of  very  serious  and  important 
deliberation :  "I  think  my  assistant  here,  Mr.  Root,  would 
be  best  adapted  to  your  case."  My  astonishment  was  un- 
bounded, but  if  this  young  man  knew  nothing  I  was  a  little 
ahead  of  him,  and  it  would  be  a  delight  to  help  him  over  the 
road  I  had  just  traveled.  That  was  my  first  pupil,  and  what 
I  lacked  in  experience  I  made  up  in  good  will  and  attention. 
At  any  rate  he  was  well  satisfied,  as  I  had  good  reason  to 
know  afterward.  It  was  not  long  before  others  came  and 
inquired  for  me  instead  of  Mr.  Johnson,  on  account  of  young 
Slade's  recommendation. 

About  this  time,  certainly  not  more  than  seven  weeks 
from  the  beginning  of  my  connection  writh  Mr.  Johnson,  he 
proposed  a  new  bargain.     The  first  had  not  been  for  any 


14  THE    STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

definite  time — we  were  "  to  see  how  we  liked,"  as  lie  said, 
but  of  course  the  seeing  was  wholly  on  his  side.  He  had 
now  evidently  made  up  his  mind,  and  an  agreement  was 
made  for  a  year  at  a  very  considerable  increase  in  pay. 
That  I  was  glad  and  thankful  goes  without  saying.  The 
news  flew  to  the  old  farm  as  fast  as  Uncle  Sam's  machinery 
in  those  days  could  take  it  (there  was  no  dream  yet  for  years 
of  telegraph),  and  at  "Thanksgiving,"  toward  the  end  of 
November,  when  I  made  my  first  visit  home,  we  had  a  happy 
time,  as  you  may  imagine. 

About  this  time  Mr.  Mason  advertised  that  new  mem- 
bers would  be  admitted  to  the  Boston  Academy's  Chorus. 
Those  who  wished  to  join  must  be  at  a  certain  place  at  a 
certain  time,  and  have  their  voices  and  reading  ability 
tested.  Mr.  Johnson  said  I  had  better  go ;  that  the  Acad- 
emy's work  was  more  difficult  than  that  of  the  Musical  Ed- 
ucation Society,  and  that  the  practice  would  be  good  for  me 
in  every  way.  I  shook  in  my  shoes  at  the  suggestion,  but 
Mr.  Johnson's  courage  was  equal  to  the  occasion,  and  I  went. 
That  was  my  first  sight  of  Lowell  Mason,  and  also  of  Geo. 
Jas.  Webb,  who  did  the  trying  of  the  voices,  while  Mr.  Mason 
looked  on.  I  passed,  and  was  much  surprised  when  Mr. 
Mason  came  to  where  I  was  sitting  and  asked  me  to  join 
his  choir — that  famous  Bowdoin  Street  Choir,  the  like  of 
which  lias  rarely  been  equaled,  in  my  opinion,  in  this  or  any 
other  country.  I  told  him  why  I  could  not — that  I  was 
with  Mr.  Johnson,  etc.,  but  that  invitation  settled  the  voice 
question  in  my  mind.  I  was  going  to  sing.  Lowell  Mason 
had  wanted  me  in  his  choir,  and  that  was  as  good  as  a  war- 
ranty that  I  could  succeed. 

Meanwhile  I  did  not  neglect  my  flute.  I  was  so  well 
along  on  that  that  Mr.  Johnson  thought  something  might 
come  of  it.  So  I  took  some  lessons  and  gave  some  lessons 
on  that  instrument,  and  some  time  in  the  following  year  I 


THE    STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  1 5 

organized  a  flute  club  of  my  pupils  and  others.  There  were 
some  pretty  good  singers  in  it,  and  we  called  it  the  "Nich- 
olson Flute  and  Glee  Club."  "  Nicholson's  Flute  Instruct- 
or "  was  my  delight,  both  for  method  and  music,  hence  the 
name.  We  had  music  arranged  in  six  parts  for  our  ten 
flutes.  Simon  Knaebel,  a  good  orchestra  and  band  musi- 
cian, I  remember,  did  the  arranging.  We  had  marches, 
quicksteps,  waltzes,  etc.,  all  simple  but  popular  then.  We 
gave  some  concerts  in  the  neighboring  towns,  and  on  one 
grand  occasion  played  at  some  performance  in  the  Odeon, 
and,  what  is  better,  were  encored.  It  was  rather  absurd  to 
have  harmony,  the  base  of  which  could  go  no  lower  than 
middle  C ;  but  it  was  a  novelty,  and  to  us  a  source  of  great 
enjoyment. 

One  important  day,  soon  after  my  admission  to  the  Bos- 
ton Academy's  Chorus,  Mr.  Johnson  said  I  had  better  take 
some  voice  lessons  of  Mr.  Webb ;  that  private  voice  teach- 
ing was  very  profitable,  and  he  thought  I  could  fit  myself  to 
do  that  work.  Mr.  Johnson  never  flinched  from  what  he 
thought  I  ought  to  do.  I  was  glad  enough,  however,  to  take 
lessons  of  Geo.  Jas.  Webb,  the  best  vocal  teacher  in  Boston, 
an  elegant  organist,  an  accomplished  musician,  and  a  model 
Christian  gentleman.  He  received  me  with  great  kindness, 
and  after  trying  my  voice  in  various  ways,  gave  me  some 
exercises  to  work  upon.  At  my  next  lesson,  after  I  had 
sung  what  he  had  before  given  me  to  practice,  he  looked  up 
with  an  expression  of  pleased  surprise  and  said:  "Well, 
Mr.  Root,  I  believe  you  will  learn  to  sing."  I  replied,  "Of 
course;  that  is  what  I  fully  intend  to  do."  "  Ah,  but,"  he  re- 
sponded, "  at  your  first  lesson  I  thought  it  extremely  doubt- 
ful whether  it  would  be  worth  your  while  to  try."  Of  course 
he  had  reference  to  solo  singing,  and  not  to  joining  with 
the  bases  in  a  chorus,  which  I  could  then  do  fairly  well. 

My  lessons  went  on  with  him  for  months — a  year,  per- 


16  THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFK. 

haps,  and  I  came  not  only  to  delight  in  them,  but  in  the 
friendly  atmosphere  of  his  pleasant  home.  I  used  always  to 
be  glad  when  I  could  see  his  little  Mary — four  or  five  years 
old  perhaps ;  she  was  so  bright  and  so  full  of  music.  Once 
I  remember  she  came  into  the  teaching  room,  where  I  was 
waiting  for  my  lesson,  and  said :  "  Papa  will  come  pretty 
soon,  but  I've  been  to  the  'Rainers.'  '  The  Rainers  were  a 
family  of  Swiss  Yodlers,  the  first,  I  think,  to  come  to  this 
country,  and  were  singing  in  costume  and  in  their  native 
language  their  pretty  Swiss  songs.  Everybody  went  to  hear 
them.  "I've  been  to  the  Rainers,"  she  went  on,  as  she 
climbed  upon  the  piano  stool,  "  and  wasn't  it  funny  what 
they  said?"  Here  she  piped  up  with  a  comical  motion  of 
her  head,  but  with  accordant  tones  on  the  piano : — 


rir^T : — : : 

JL.  J 

n 

n 

n 

. 

_# 

.   #     __ 

• 

m 

S        :  , 

^ 

V 

y 

V 

r 

•)         + 

9 

Take    a      piece    a      yarn,    Take    a       piece     a       yarn. 

Mr.  Webb,  coming  in  at  that  moment,  laughed  and  explained 
that  Mary  was  very  fond  of  giving  her  imitation  of  Simon 
Rainer's  manner  and  her  translation  of  his  German.  I 
thought  often  of  this  little  incident  in  after  years,  while 
listening  to  her  splendid  rendering  of  "  I  know  that  my 
Redeemer  liveth,"  or  some  other  oratorio  classic,  and  later, 
while  enjoying  her  gracious  hospitality  as  the  wife  of  Dr. 
William  Mason,  in  their  lovely  home  in  Orange,  New  Jersey. 
Speaking  of  foreign  performers,  it  was  about  this  time 
that  we  heard  Herwig,  who  was,  I  think,  the  first  really 
great  violinist  to  come  to  this  country.  His  harmonic  play- 
ing— making  his  violin  sound  like  a  fine  high  wind  instru- 
ment,  caused  great  astonishment,  and  filled  his  houses  to 
overflowing.  It  was  some  years  afterward  that  we  heard 
Vieuxtemps,  Sivori,  and  Ole  Bull  on  his  first  visit,  but  Artot 
came  soon  after  Herwig.     About  that  time  also  came  the 


THE    STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE.  1 7 

first  pianists  that  much  excelled  the  best  we  had  heard.  Jane 
Sloman  was  first,  and  in  a  few  months  Rakemann.  They 
had  great  success  then,  but  such  playing  now  would  be  con- 
sidered only  mediocre — I  mean  as  concert  playing.  Every 
large  city  in  the  country  has  better  players. 

But  a  matter  of  greater  interest  to  me  was  the  advent  in 
those  days  of  Braham,  who  had  been  for  a  generation  the 
greatest  English  tenor.  He  was  an  old  man,  and  it  was  said 
his  voice  was  not  what  it  had  been,  but  no  one  who  then 
heard  him  sing  "Thou  shalt  dash  them  in  pieces  like  a  pot- 
ter's vessel  "  probably  ever  heard  anything  before  or  since 
to  compare  with  his  tone  upon  the  word  "dash" — so  large 
and  at  the  same  time  so  terrifically  intense.  Marcus  Col- 
burn,  one  of  our  resident  tenors,  came  the  nearest  to  him  in 
power,  and  would  have  made  as  great  a  singer  probably, 
if  he  had  had  the  opportunity,  for  his  voice  excelled  Bra- 
ham's  in  a  certain  sweet  and  ringing  quality. 

That  brings  to  my  mind  a  rather  ludicrous  scene  in 
which  Mr.  Colburn  and  I  were  chief  actors.  Mr.  Colburn 
was  a  giant  in  size,  over  six  feet  in  height,  and  very  portly 
— weighing  probably  near  to  three  hundred  pounds.  After  I 
came  to  be  regarded  as  a  promising  base  singer  it  came  about 
— I  don't  remember  whether  through  Mr.  Johnson's  courage 
or  that  of  some  one  else  —  that  I  was  appointed  to  sing 
with  Mr.  Colburn  from  Neukomm's  Oratorio  of  "  David  "  the 
duet  between  David  and  Goliath,  at  a  concert  at  the  Odeon. 
It  was  absurd  enough  when  we  went  forward  together  to 
begin,  for  this  giant  was  David,  and  I,  a  stripling  in  compar- 
ison to  him,  was  Goliath  ;  but  when  I  had  to  sing,  in  the 
most  ponderous  tones  I  could  assume,  "I  can  not  war  with 
boys,"  the  audience  broke  out  into  irrepressible  laughter,  in 
which  Colburn,  who  had  the  most  contagious  laugh  in  the 
world,  joined,  and  that  "  broke  me  all  up,"  as  they  say  now- 
a-days.  We  went  through  our  performance,  however,  though 
we  did  not  consider  it  an  unqualified  success. 


!S  THE    STORY   OF    A    MUSICAL   LIFE. 

But  the  most  important  event  to  me,  in  the  way  of  pub- 
lic performances,  in  those  days  (1839),  was  the  singing  of 
Henry  Russell,  an  English  Jew,  who  composed  and  sang 
"The  Ivy  Green,"  "Our  Native  Song,"  "A  Life  on  the 
n  Wave,"  "The  Old  Sexton,"  "Wind  of  the  Winter 
Night,"  and  many  other  songs  of  that  grade.  He  had  a 
beautiful  baritone  voice  and  great  command  of  the  key- 
board— played  his  own  accompaniments,  gave  his  concerts 
entirely  alone,  and  in  a  year  in  this  country  made  a  fortune. 
Songs  of  his,  like  "  The  Maniac  "  and  "The  Gambler's  Wife," 
were  exceedingly  pathetic,  and  always  made  people  cry  when 
lie  san^  them.  He  looked  so  pitiful  and  so  sympathetic — 
"he  felt  every  word,"  as  his  listeners  would  think  and  say 
— and  yet,  when  he  retired  to  his  dressing  room,  he  was  said 
to  have  been  much  amused  at  the  grief  of  his  weeping  con- 
stituents, showing  that  he  had  not  really  the  heart  in  his  song 
that  he  appeared  to  have. 

Of  course  it  is  a  part  of  the  singer's  art  to  assume  emo- 
tions that  he  does  not  really  feel,  and  that  is  all  right  if 
the  emotions  he  assumes  are  healthful  and  good.  For  in- 
stance, a  man  may  sing  of  the  delights  of  a  farmer's  or  a 
sailor's  life  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  his  hearers  think  he 
likes  that  life  best,  when,  in  point  of  fact,  he  may  much 
prefer  some  other.  But  good  taste  requires  that  the  singer 
should  treat  respectfully  the  emotion  he  excites. 

I  was  so  taken  with  Russell's  songs  that  I  worked  harder 
than  ever  before  to  be  able  to  play  and  sing  them  as  he  did. 
When  the  accompaniments  were  too  much  for  me,  or  the 
pitch  too  high,  I  modified  and  simplified  and  transposed,  and 
in  a  few  months  had  them  at  my  tongue's  and  fingers'  ends, 
and  I  have  sung  certain  of  them  ever  since  —  more  than 
fifty  years.  While  Russell  was  in  this  country,  Joseph 
Philip  Knight  came  over  and  gave  us  "Rocked  in  the 
Cradle  of  the  Deep,"  which  Russell  added  to  his  repertoire, 
and  I.  with  certain  modifications,  to  mine. 


THK    STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE.  1 9 

This  is  a  good  place  to  speak  of  the  absurdity  of  sa}'ing 
that  simple  music  keeps  the  tastes  and  musical  culture  of 
the  people  down.  You  might  as  well  say  that  a  person  is 
kept  in  addition,  subtraction,  multiplication  and  division  by 
having  around  him  more  examples  in  elementary  arithmetic 
than  he  needs.  If  he  is  interested  in  the  subject,  he'll  go  on 
after  he  has  mastered  the  simpler  to  that  which  is  more  dif- 
ficult, if  the  examples  or  books  that  he  needs  are  within  his 
reach.  You  can  not  keep  him  in  the  lower  grade  by  multi- 
plying elementary  books.  If  he  is  not  interested,  or  is  more 
occupied  with  other  things,  he  may  never  go  beyond  those 
elementary  mathematics  which  are  needed  for  the  common 
duties  of  life  ;  but  since  he  can  not  get  higher  without  going 
through  them,  it  is  useless  to  put  that  which  is  higher  before 
him  until  they  are  mastered. 

For  a  few  months  Russell's  songs  filled  me  with  delight. 
They  were  just  what  I  needed  to  help  me  out  of  my  element- 
ary condition.  Before  a  year  was  over  they  had  done  their 
work,  and  I  craved  something  higher.  Schubert's  songs 
came  next.  Is  it  supposed  for  an  instant  that  songs  of  the 
Russell  grade,  had  they  been  multiplied  a  hundred-fold, 
would  have  had  an}r  effect  in  keeping  me  back,  if  I  could 
get  what  I  wanted  ?  Certainly  not ;  and  Schubert's  songs, 
and  others  of  that  grade,  were,  and  are,  plenty,  and  more 
easily  obtained,  because,  being  non-copyright,  they  are  free 
to  all  publishers.  Those  not  in  music,  or  not  so  music- 
al naturally,  do  not  get  through  the  elementary  state  so 
soon ;  in  fact,  many  business  and  professional  people,  giving 
very  little  time  or  thought  to  the  subject,  never  get  through ; 
they  prefer  the  simpler  music  to  the  end  of  their  days.  But 
there  is  no  royal  road  for  such.  They  must  get  their  fill  of 
the  simple — must  hear  it  until  they  crave  something  higher 
— before  that  which  is  higher  can  be  of  any  use  to  them. 
It  is  an  axiom  that  emotional  or  aesthetic  benefit  by  music 


20 


Till-    STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 


can  come  to  a  person  only  through  music  that  he  likes.     By 
that  alone  can  he  grow  musically. 

Just  as  the  elementary  departments  of  mathematics  are 
the  foundations  of  that  great  subject,  so  tonic,  dominant  and 
sub-dominant  (the  simplest  harmonies)  are  foundations  in 
all  music — the  highest  as  well  as  the  lowest.  No  one  de- 
rides or  looks  with  contempt  upon  the  elements  of  mathe- 
matics, or  upon  the  thousand  ways  by  which  those  simpler 
things  are  made  interesting  to  the  learner.  On  the  con- 
trary, the  most  learned  mathematicians  appreciate  their  im- 
portance and  delight  in  their  success.  So  it  should  be  in 
our  science  and  art ;  and,  without  apologizing  for  what  is  in- 
correct or  untasteful  in  the  simple  music  of  the  day,  I  say, 
unhesitatingly,  that  all  correct  musical  forms,  howrever  ele- 
mentary, find  some  one  to  whom  they  are  just  what  is 
needed,  either  for  practical  or  aesthetic  benefit,  or  both. 
Since,  therefore,  there  are  always  so  many  grown-up  men 
and  women,  learned  and  strong  in  other  things,  who  are 
still  in  elementary  musical  states,  I  keep,  ready  for  use,  the 
simple  songs  that  helped  me,  and  am  always  glad  to  sing 
them  where  they  will  do  any  good. 

I  do  not  quite  remember  where  my  first  "  singing- 
school"  was  taught,  but  I  think  an  experimental  class  was 
held  in  Harmony  Hall  during  my  first  winter  (1838-9),  un- 
der the  guise  of  helping  some  young  ladies  and  gentlemen 
read  notes,"  who  were  desirous  of  joining  the  Musical 
Education  Society.  I  had  seen  Mr.  Johnson  teach  a  few 
times,  but  I  had  no  orderly  method,  and  my  work  must  have 
been  exceedingly  desultory  and  crude.  Something  carried 
me  through,  however,  and  the  next  autumn  I  had  a  large 
class  at  the  North  End,  which  lasted  nearly  through  the 
winter,  and  which,  on  the  closing  night,  made  me  very 
proud  and  happy  by  the  gift  of  a  silver  goblet,  suitably  en- 
graved, and  which  now  occupies  a  place  among  my  treas- 
urer 


THE   STORY   OF  A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  21 

About  this  time  I  became  acquainted  with  I.  B.  Wood- 
bury. He  was  two  or  three  years  older  than  myself,  and 
had  commenced  his  musical  work  a  year  or  two  before  me. 
He  had  a  small  room,  also,  in  Tremont  Row.  He  was  a 
most  indefatigable  student  and  worker.  I  think  it  was  dur- 
ing my  first  winter  in  Boston  that  he  taught  a  singing-school 
in  Beverly,  and  often  walked  back  to  Boston,  fifteen  miles, 
after  nine  o'clock  at  night,  to  be  ready  for  his  lessons  in  the 
morning.  We  who  were  inured  to  the  hardships  of  New 
England  country  life  in  those  days  did  not  think  of  such 
things  as  they  would  be  thought  of  now.  Mr.  Woodbury 
was  very  economical,  and  in  a  year  or  two  had  saved  enough 
money  to  go  to  L,ondon  and  take  lessons  for  a  few  months. 
Soon  after  he  came  home  he  began  to  write,  and  it  was  not 
long  before  he  published  his  first  book  of  church  music. 
He  was  prosperous  and  very  ambitious.  He  said  to  me 
once,  "When  I  die  I  shall  surprise  the  world,"  and  he  did. 
He  was  not  strong  constitutionally,  and  the  flame  burned  so 
fiercely  that  the  end  for  him  came  early.  It  was  then  found 
that  he  had  left  almost  his  entire  estate  to  found  a  Musical 
Institution — the  money  to  be  used  for  that  purpose  after  it 
had  been  invested  long  enough  to  produce  a  certain  sum. 
But  the  law  stepped  in  and  changed  this  disposition  of  his 
fortune  in  favor  of  his  wife  and  children.  Mr.  Woodbury 
was  a  genial,  pleasant  gentleman,  and  because  he  wrote  only 
simple  music,  never  was  credited  (by  those  who  did  not 
know  him)  with  the  musical  ability  and  culture  that  he 
really  possessed. 

Speaking  of  Mr.  Woodbury's  long  walk,  and  the  hardi- 
hood of  New  England  country  boys,  reminds  me  of  what  I 
used  sometimes  to  do  to  be  home  on  Thanksgiving  Day. 
That  was  then  by  far  the  greatest  day  of  the  year  in  New 
England,  viewed  in  a  social  or  religious  way.  Christmas 
was  hardly  noticed.     Everybody  would  be  at  the  father's 


22  THE    STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE. 

or  grandfather's  home  for  "Thanksgiving,"  if  within  the 
bounds  of  possibility.  If  I  had  a  singing-school  the  night 
before,  I  would  start,  after  a  short  sleep,  perhaps  at  two  or 
three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  walk  homeward,  some- 
body starting  from  there  at  the  same  time  in  a  wagon  to 
meet  me,  so  that  I  might  be  at  home  for  breakfast.  Once, 
after  my  lather  returned  from  South  America,  a  young  man 
from  North  Reading,  who  was  learning  a  trade  in  Boston, 
took  this  walk  with  me.  We  were  in  the  highest  state  of 
boyish  exhilaration,  and  when  my  companion  suggested  that 
it  would  be  a  good  scheme  to  be  on  the  lookout  for  the 
wagon,  and,  when  we  heard  it,  to  conceal  ourselves  and  sur- 
prise horse  and  rider  in  high  way  man  fashion,  I  agreed.  It 
was  my  father  whom  we  met,  and  it  was  a  lonely  part  of  the 
road.  We  sprang  out  at  the  horse,  and  he  said  :  "  Hullo  ! 
what  are  ye  about?"  and  immediately  added  when  he  saw 
who  we  were  :  "  Boys,  this  would  have  been  anything  but  a 
Thanksgiving  Day  for  us  if  I  had  been  armed  as  I  was  in 
South  America."  We  saw  at  once  how  foolish  we  had  been, 
although,  as  no  one  carried  arms  in  those  days,  no  idea  of 
risk  came  to  our  minds.  We  did  not  tell  of  our  exploit  at 
home,  but  I  have  often  thought  how  my  father  "  stood  fire," 
and  what  crestfallen  highwaymen  we  were  for  the  rest  of 
the  journey. 

I  must  not  omit  to  speak  of  one  most  interesting  pupil 
that  I  had  during  my  second  year  in  Harmony  Hall.  One 
day  I  answered  a  gentle  rap  at  the  door,  and  a  large,  fine- 
looking  old  gentleman  entered.  He  said:  "  I  suppose  you 
will  think  it  strange  that  an  old  man  like  me  should  wish  to 
learn  to  play  upon  the  organ,  but  I  have  a  small  one  in  my 
house  (there  were  no  reed  organs  then),  and  if  I  could  learn 
to  play  a  few  of  my  favorite  tunes  upon  it  I  should  be  very 
glad.  I  live  in  Farmington,  Maine,  but  am  spending  a  few 
days  with  my  son  in  the  city  here."     I  told  him  that  he 


THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE.  23 

could  not  do  much  in  a  few  days,  but  that  I  would  do  my 
best  for  him  if  he  decided  to  try.  He  did  so  decide,  and 
seemed  to  enjoy  the  lessons,  as  I  certainly  did  his  acquaint- 
ance, although  he  did  not  accomplish  all  he  had  hoped  in  the 
way  of  learning  his  favorite  tunes.  He  was  a  typical  New 
Englander,  of  the  best  kind  of  those  days — one  who  had 
lived  a  long,  blameless  life,  practicing  all  the  virtues  of  the 
Puritans  without  their  hardness.  His  quaint,  shrewd  re- 
marks were  a  constant  source  of  pleasure  and  benefit,  for 
they  were  from  the  "  innocence  of  wisdom." 

I  mention  this  circumstance,  first,  because  this  lovely 
old  gentleman  was  the  father  of  the  brothers  Abbott,  the 
oldest  of  whom  was  Jacob  Abbott,  the  author  of  "  The 
Young  Christian  "  and  "  The  Corner  Stone,"  and  later  of  the 
"  Rollo  "  books,  and  grandfather  of  Dr.  Lyman  Abbott,  the 
present  pastor  of  Plymouth  Church,  Brooklyn,  and  editor 
of  the  Christian  Union,  and  of  Benjamin  V.  and  Austin 
Abbott,  distinguished  lawyers  and  legal  authors  in  New 
York  City.  I  also  mention  this  circumstance  because  it  led 
to  an  important  change  in  my  life  and  prospects  four  years 
later. 

I  must  not  omit  to  speak  of  the  "  Old  Corner  Bookstore," 
which  still  stands  at  the  corner  of  School  and  Washington 
Streets.  It  was  a  bookstore  then  as  now,  only  at  that  time, 
on  one  side,  with  one  counter,  was  the  sheet-music  and 
music-book  establishment  of  "  Parker  &  Ditson."  I  went 
there  often  for  music,  and  was  often  waited  upon  by  the 
handsome,  dark-eyed  junior  partner  of  the  concern — the 
man  who  then  was  making  the  beginning  of  what  is  now 
one  of  the  largest  music  houses  in  the  world. 


24  THK   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL    LIFE. 


CHAPTER  III. 

I  S4O-1S44,  BOSTON— PARTNERSHIP— FIRST  EFFORTS  AS  ORGAN- 
IST AND  CHOIR  LEADER — THE  FIRST  TEACHING  OF  MUSIC 
IN  PUBLIC  SCHOOLS — THE  TEACHERS'  CLASS  OF  THE  BOS- 
TON ACADEMY  OF  MUSIC  AND  MY  FIRST  EFFORTS  AT 
VOCAL  TRAINING  IN  CLASSES — THE  OLD  MARLBORO'  AND 
MY  UNINTENTIONAL  CRITIC — BOWDOIN  ST.  CHOIR  AND  MY 
INTENTIONAL  CRITIC — BOSTON'S  FIRST  BOAT  CLUB — CALL 
TO    NEW   YORK. 

A  GREAT  change  for  me,  in  fact  for  both  of  us,  took 
place  before  my  first  year's  agreement  with  Mr.  John- 
son was  out.  He  proposed  a  partnership  for  five  years,  in 
which  he  should  have  two-thirds  and  I  one-third  of  what  wTe 
both  should  earn,  he  to  have  the  privilege  of  spending  one 
of  the  years  in  Germany,  the  division  of  profits  to  be  the 
same  during  his  absence.  I  agreed,  and  the  plan  was  carried 
out,  and  now  I  can  not  be  quite  sure  of  the  dates  of  certain 
things,  for  the  Chicago  fire  destroyed  my  records  of  those 
days,  and  of  many  years  after.  But  I  shall  be  near  enough 
for  the  purposes  of  this  story. 

It  was  not  long  after  our  partnership  agreement  (prob- 
ably about  1840)  that  Mr.  Johnson  was  called  to  take  charge 
of  the  choir  and  play  the  organ  in  Park  Street  Church — 
the  first  church  then  in  point  of  size  and  importance  in 
the  Congregational  denomination  of  the  city.  I  had  long 
before  commenced  my  organ  performances  by  playing  the 
"  last  tunc  "  at  the  Odeon  services,  in  which  all  the  people 
joined,  and  which  was  always  well  known  and  simple,  and 
then,  as  soon  as  Mr.  Johnson's  courage  wTas  equal  to  it,  I 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL    LIFE*  25 

supplied  an  organist's  place  for  six  months  at  Mr.  Budding- 
ton's  church  in  Charlestown,  just  across  the  bridge.  This 
was  my  first  organ  engagement.  Mr.  Johnson  still  had  the 
choir  at  Mr.  Rogers'  church,  and  now  was  to  play  half  a  day 
at  each  place,  I  playing  the  other  half.  Whether  the  Odeon 
church  (the  Central  Congregational)  had  yet  moved  to  its 
new  edifice  in  Winter  street,  built  near  the  spot  where  the 
Music  Hall  now  stands,  I  am  not  certain ;  but  if  not  yet,  it 
was  accomplished  soon  after.  Then  all  went  smoothly  in 
regard  to  the  two  choirs — they  were  near  neighbors  and 
often  met  together  for  general  practice.  There  were  about 
thirty  voices  in  each  choir. 

Mr.  Johnson  had  had  a  rigid  business  training  in  a  large 
hardware  store  in  Boston  before  he  made  music  his  entire 
occupation,  and  always  had  the  idea  of  making  ours  a  busi- 
ness establishment,  modeled  strictly  on  business  principles. 
I  was  his  first  "  apprentice ;  "  I  became  afterward  "  confiden- 
tial clerk,"  and  later,  partner,  and  he  would  now  have  others 
coming  along  in  the  same  way.  So,  soon  after  the  arrange- 
ment with  the  Park  Street  Church,  he  decided  to  give  up 
Harmony  Hall  and  take  three  rooms  in  the  fine  basement 
of  that  church  facing  the  Common.  I  remonstrated  gently, 
for  the  new  rooms  would  cost  us  $600  a  year,  and  $600  then 
was  as  much  for  most  purposes  as  twice  that  sum  would  be 
now.  But  he  said  we  could  there  have  a  fine  sign  out ;  that 
we  could  raise  our  prices,  take  a  new  student  or  two,  and 
increase  the  business  generally,  enough  to  more  than  pay 
the  extra  expense.  We  certainly  did  have  our  hands  full, 
but  we  probably  should  have  had  that  at  the  old  place. 
Nothing,  however,  could  be  more  convenient  for  our  pur- 
poses than  those  rooms,  and  the  outlook  under  the  great 
trees  of  the  Common  was  most  picturesque  and  beautiful. 

About  the  time  I  went  to  Boston,  Lowell  Mason  told  the 
public  school  authorities  of  the  city  that  he  believed  vocal 


26  THE    STORY   OF    A    MUSICAL   LIFE. 

music  could  be  successfully  taught  in  the  schools  as  a  regu- 
lar branch  of  education,  and  that  if  they  would  allow  him  he 
would  teach  in  one  or  two  for  a  year  without  pay,  to  show 
that  it  could  be  done.  Music  in  public  schools  was  then  an 
unheard-of  thing  in  this  country,  but  Mr.  Mason's  experi- 
ment was  tried,  and  it  resulted  in  the  introduction  of  music 
into  the  entire  school  system  of  the  city,  with  Mr.  Mason  for 
musical  superintendent.  The  first  year  Mr.  Mason  and  Mr. 
J.  C. Woodman  (of  whom  I  will  speak  more  at  length  later) 
taught  in  all  the  schools.  The  second  year  Mr.  Mason  em- 
ployed Mr.  Johnson  and  myself  to  help,  and  taught  less 
himself.  I  taught  in  five  of  the  schools,  and  I  think  Mr. 
Johnson  had  the  same  number.  A  course  was  marked  out 
which  took  a  year,  each  school  receiving  two  half-hour  les- 
sons a  week. 

One  of  my  schools  was  on  Fort  Hill,  an  elevation,  as  I 
remember  it,  of  eighty  or  a  hundred  feet  above  the  surround- 
ing houses.  I  had  no  occasion  to  go  into  that  part  of  the 
city  for  many  years  after  I  left  it,  and  not  very  long  ago, 
when  I  thought  I  would  climb  the  old  hill  again,  not  a  ves- 
tige of  it  remained.  It  was  as  flat  all  about  there  as  Chicago. 
But  when  I  meet  Mr.  Haines,  the  partner  and  now  practical 
head  of  the  great  Ditson  establishment,  it  is  the  same  face 
that  used  always  to  give  me  a  friendly  greeting  from  behind 
his  <le>k  at  the  Mason  street  school,  when  I  appeared  there 
for  the  singing  lesson;  so  of  a  distinguished  banker  in  Cin- 
cinnati whom  I  occasionally  see;  and  a  successful  Chicago 
merchant  who  is  a  near  neighbor — all  were  boys  in  the  Ma- 
-<>u  street  school. 

If  my  getting  on  so  fast  in  a  city  like  Boston  seems  un- 
accountable, I  must  explain  again  that  music  was  in  a  very 
different  condition  then  from  what  it  is  now.  It  was  just 
emerging  from  the  florid  but  crude  melodies  and  the  im- 
perfect harmonies  of  the  older  time.      Lowell  Mason  had 


THE   STORY    OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE.  27 

but  just  commenced  what  proved  to  be  a  revolution  in  the 
"plain  song"  of  the  church  and  of  the  people,  and  his  meth- 
ods of  teaching  the  elementary  principles  of  music  were  so 
much  better  and  so  much  more  attractive  than  anything  that 
had  before  been  seen  that  those  who  were  early  in  the  field 
had  very  great  advantage.  We  had  no  competition  and  were 
sought  for  on  every  hand.  To  be  sure  there  were  organists 
then  who  would  be  considered  fine  organists  now,  but  such 
very  moderate  players  as  we  were,  got  on,  because  our  choirs 
produced  the  new  kind  of  simple,  sweet  music  that  went  to 
the  hearts  of  the  people  and  the  people  connected  the  organ, 
little  as  there  was  in  the  playing,  with  the  general  effect  they 
so  much  enjoyed.  It  was  very  much  like  the  success  of  an 
early  dealer  in  pianos  in  Chicago,  who  used  to  sell  a  great 
number  of  instruments  by  sitting  down  to  them  and  singing 
a  song  while  playing  two  or  three  simple  chords.  It  must 
be  a  fine  piano  to  be  connected  with  such  soul-stirring  music. 
One  of  the  things  that  spurred  me  up  from  the  first  to  do 
my  best  to  succeed  was  the  consciousness  that  if  my  father 
should  return  from  South  America  and  find  my  experiment 
a  failure — having  left  mother  and  the  children  as  I  did,  that 
I  should  not  feel  entirely  comfortable  in  the  paternal  society, 
for  his  own  effort  to  better  the  family  fortunes  had  not  been 
very  successful.  But  during  my  second  year  with  Mr.  John- 
son he  returned  and  no  fault  was  found.  On  the  contrary, 
he  went  back  to  the  old  farm  and  enjoyed  my  prosperity 
with  the  rest  of  us.  My  brother  (E.  T.  Root,  who,  years 
afterward,  with  C.  M.  Cady,  started  the  firm  of  Root  &  Cady 
in  Chicago)  came  home  from  South  America,  where  he  had 
gone  for  his  health,  a  few  months  before  my  father,  and  soon 
found  a  situation  in  Boston  where  he  could  devote  a  part  of 
his  time  to  music.  It  was  not  long,  however,  before  he  de- 
cided to  make  music  his  business,  as  I  had  done.  So  we 
sent  a  piano  up  to  the  old  red  house,  and  he  went  home  and 


28  THH    STORY   OF  A    MUSICAL    LIFE. 

gave  himself  wholly  to  practice.  He  was  always  the  singer 
of  the  family.  Before  his  voice  changed  it  was  a  beautiful 
soprano,  and  after  the  change  a  smooth,  sympathetic  tenor; 
but  more  of  that  later.  My  sisters,  too,  practiced  whenever 
they  could  get  at  the  piano,  and  all  played  and  sang,  much 
to  their  enjoyment  and  advantage  in  following  years.  In- 
deed,  my  youngest  sister,  who  wras  a  baby  when  I  left  home, 
has  been  for  some  years  one  of  the  best  and  most  successful 
voice  teachers  in  the  profession,  as  all  the  musical  people  of 
Chicago  will  testify. 

It  was  perhaps  the  year  before  I  went  to  Boston  that 
Lowell  Mason  and  Geo.  Jas.  Webb  held  the  first  "  Musical 
Convention,"  but  they  did  not  call  the  gathering  by  that 
name.  It  was  for  some  years  "The  Teachers'  Class  of  the 
Boston  Academy  of  Music."  Its  sessions  continued  for  ten 
days,  and  brought  together  teachers  of  music  and  choir 
leaders  from  city  and  country.  These  being  mostly  men, 
the  Academy's  chorus,  Mr.  Mason's  choir  and  other  singers 
of  the  city  joined  for  the  afternoon  and  evening  practice  and 
performances.  The  mornings  were  spent  by  Mr.  Mason  in 
showing  his  new  method  of  teaching  and  in  giving  his  ideas 
of  church  music;  the  afternoons  with  Mr.  Webb  in  part-song, 
glee  and  madrigal  singing,  and  in  the  evening,  when  all 
could  come,  the  choruses  of  the  great  masters  were  sung, 
Mr.  Mason  conducting  and  Mr.  Webb  accompanying  upon 
the  organ.  Mr.  Mason  was  a  strong  conductor  and  an  in- 
telligent interpreter  of  those  great  works,  and  Mr.  Webb, 
the  most  refined  and  delightful  teacher  of  the  English  glee 
and  madrigal  that  I  have  ever  known. 

It   was  at  the  Teachers'  Class  of  1841,  I  think,  that  I 
in  to  figure  as  an  instructor  in  that  kind  of  work.     It 
came  about   in  this  way:  —  I  noticed  that  the  voices,  espe- 
cially the  bases,  were,  many  of  them,  pinched  and  hard,  and 
I   thought  I  would  see  if  I  could  help  them.     There  had 


THE   STORY   OF  A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  29 

been  no  voice  training  in  classes  then ;  that  work  had  been 
done  entirely  by  private  instruction.     So,  in  pursuance  of 
my  plan,  I  told  some  of  the  men  of  the  class  privately  to 
meet  me  during  the  noon  recess  in  the  saloon  (the  small 
hall  of  the  Odeon  of  which  I  have  spoken)  and  we  would 
see  if  our  voices  were  all  right.    Singers,  especially  those  in 
elementary  states,  are  always   interested  in  that  subject,  so 
the  proposition  met  with  a  hearty  response.     There  were 
perhaps  twenty  present  at  that  first  meeting.    I  took  each  one 
separately,  all  the  rest  looking  on  or  occasionally  joining,  and 
sang  a  tone  with  him  either  an  octave  higher  or  an  octave 
lower,  and  showed  him  and  all  how  much  more  resonance 
and  blending  there  was  when  the  tone  was  produced  with 
the  throat  more  open,  and  when  he  could  not  readily  change 
from  the  way  to  which  he  had  been  accustomed,  I  devised 
such  means  as  I  could  think  of  to  help  him,  much  to  the 
interest  of  the  class  and  sometimes  to  their  great  amuse- 
ment.   When  I  got  through  there  was  a  good  deal  of  favor- 
able excitement  in  the  little  company.     "  This  is  what  we 
want.  Can't  we  have  this  every  day  ? "  was  heard  on  all  sides. 
I  said  I  was  willing  enough,  but  they  would  have  to  go  to 
Mr.  Mason  about  it;  we  certainly  could  not  meet  at  this 
time  every  day,  for  some  of  us  had  then  lost  our  dinners. 
When  the    class   came   together   for    Mr.  Webb's  exer- 
cise in  the  afternoon,  these  men  gathered  about  Mr.  Mason 
and  told  him  what  they  wanted.  They  were  so  close  to  him, 
and  so  clamorous  I  remember,  that  he  jumped  up  into  a 
chair,    and    when   he    fully   understood    the   situation,    an- 
nounced that  the  last  hour  of  the  morning  would  be  devoted 
to  vocal  training  under  the  instruction  of  Mr.  Root.     This 
was  my  first  appearance  in  vocal  training  class-work.     Of 
course  I  could  not  hear  voices  alone  so  much  after  this  as  I 
had  done  in  the  smaller  and  more  informal  gathering,  but  it 
was  better  than  nothing,  and  as  there  was  no  previous  work 


-n0  THE   STORY    OF    A    MUSICAL   LIFE. 

of  the  kind  to  compare  it  with,  it  was  popular,  and  con- 
tinued as  one  of  the  features  of  teachers'  classes  and  con- 
ventions during  my  long  connection  with  Mr.  Mason,  and 
has  been  an  integral  part  of  normals  and  conventions  ever 

since. 

It  may  be  worth  mentioning  that  in  the  Spring  of  my 
third  year  in  Boston  the  first  Boat  Club  of  that  city  was 
funned.  It  consisted  of"  twenty-four  young  men  (two  crews), 
mostly  members  of  Park  Street  and  Winter  Street  Churches. 
We  had  a  boat  house  on  Beacon  street,  where  now  are  mag- 
nificent residences,  and  used  often  to  row  up  near  to  the 
Common  where  the  Public  Garden  now  is.  All  was  open 
water  where  Commonwealth  avenue  and  those  finest  build- 
ings of  Boston  now  are;  the  only  obstructions  were  the 
railroads  on  piles  and  bridges  that  ran  across  the  back  bay. 
There  was  then,  as  to-day,  the  "  mill  dam,"  and  the  long 
bridge  to  Cambridge,  and  the  bridges  to  Charlestown,  to 
pass,  when  we  wanted  to  row  down  the  harbor.  Ours  was 
a  ten-oared  boat  that  had  belonged  to  the  Yale  College  Club 
at  New  Haven.  We  named  it  the  "Shawmut"  (the  old 
Indian  name  for  Boston),  and  our  club  was  called  the 
"  Shawmut  Boat  Club."  There  was  room  enough  in  the  boat 
for  six  guests,  and  in  her  we  had  many  pleasant  excursions 
up  the  rivers  and  down  among  the  islands  of  the  harbor, 
and  much  delight  and  advantage  from  the  open  air  and  the 
rowing.  I  take  pleasure  in  recalling  that  I  was  the  first 
president  of  the  club. 

After  everything  was  well  underway  at  the  Park  Street 
and  Winter  Street  Churches  (about  1841),  and  all  my  time 
was  occupied  in  teaching,  Mr.  Johnson  went  to  Germany. 
During  his  absence  I  taught  both  choirs,  and  Mr.  S.  A.  Ban- 
croft, who  had  taken  some  lessons  from  us,  and  who  after- 
ward became  one  of  the  prominent  organists  of  Boston, 
played  the  "other  half-day."     I  now  took  up  my  quarters  at 


THK    STORY   OF  A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  3 1 

the  Marlboro'  Hotel,  on  Washington  street,  opposite  the  head 
of  Franklin  street.  This  was  a  temperance  and  religious 
house,  our  excellent  landlord,  Mr.  Nathaniel  Rogers,  con- 
ducting family  prayers  in  the  public  parlor  every  morning. 
Church  and  temperance  people  from  all  over  the  country 
gathered  there,  and  I  made  many  valuable  acquaintances 
from  among  them  during  the  two  years  that  I  was  one  of 
the  family.  One  friend  was  made  in  a  rather  curious  way. 
I  was  standing  at  one  of  the  parlor  windows,  looking  down 
Franklin  street  one  Sunday  afternoon  after  service,  observ- 
ing the  people  pouring  up  from  the  principal  Catholic  church, 
which  was  then  on  Franklin  near  Federal  street,  and  talking 
with  some  of  my  young  fellow-boarders,  when  a  gentleman 
joined  us  and  asked  where  all  the  people  were  coming 
from.  I  answered  him,  and  then  he  asked  about  other 
churches  of  the  city,  and,  finding  I  could  tell  him  what  he 
wanted  to  know,  he  began  to  ask  about  the  music  of  the 
different  denominations  and  then  about  the  organists  of  the 
city.  Presently  he  said,  "I  was  at  Park  Street  Church  this 
afternoon,  and  I  found  it  there  as  almost  everywhere — the  or- 
ganist seemed  to  think  the  organ  was  everything.  He  played 
so  loud  that  the  voices  of  the  choir  were  almost  drowned." 
Here  my  companions,  who  stood  about,  became  suddenly  in- 
terested and  glanced  mischievously  at  each  other  and  at  me. 
I  replied  that  in  the  summer  it  was  often  the  case  in  chorus 
choirs  that  the  leading  voices  were  away  and  the  organist 
had  to  play  louder  than  he  liked,  to  bolster  up  the  others. 
He  did  not  seem  to  think  that  was  a  very  good  excuse,  and 
soon  came  the  question  I  dreaded:  "Do  you  know  who  the 
organist  is  at  Park  Street  Church? "  If  my  mischievous  com- 
panions had  not  been  there  I  should  have  spared  him  and 
myself  in  some  way,  but  as  it  was  I  could  not  flinch,  and 
answered  that  I  was  the  individual.  He  was  a  good  deal 
embarrassed,  but  I  helped  him  out  by  saying  that  the  reasons 


32  THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE. 

I  had  given  were  the  real  ones  in  my  case,  and  that  if  he 
would  come  and  hear  us  at  our  best  he  would  not  have  to 
find  that  fault  with  the  accompaniment.  It  turned  out  that 
he  was  a  lawyer  from  Troy,  very  fond  of  music  and  some- 
thing- of  an  organist.  He  seemed  to  appreciate  my  efforts 
to  relieve  his  embarrassment,  and  the  interview  terminated 
in  a  very  pleasant  way.  The  next  day  we  went  to  see  some 
of  the  fine  organs  of  the  city,  and  two  or  three  years  after- 
ward, when  Messrs.  Mason  and  Webb  held  a  musical  con- 
vention in  Troy,  in  which  I  did  my  usual  voice  work,  this 
gentleman  was  an  interested  and  helpful  friend  to  us 
throughout  the  session.  But  this  incident  taught  me  a 
lesson  in  regard  to  saying  unpleasant  things  about  a  per- 
son unless  I   know  to  whom  I  am  talking. 

In  due  time  Mr.  Johnson  returned.  He  had  studied 
harmony  a  year  or  more  under  Schneider  von  Wartensee,  at 
Frankfort,  and  once  when  he  went  for  his  lesson  had  heard 
Mendelssohn  play  one  of  his  new  compositions  to  the .  old 
harmonist.  I  was  much  impressed  with  Mr.  Johnson's  de- 
scription of  the  way  the  old  man  said  "schon"  at  the  close 
of  the  performance,  and  of  Mendelssohn's  pleasure  at  the 
approval  of  the  man  who  almost  never  spoke  a  word  of 
praise.  I  do  not  remember  anything  very  eventful  in  our 
affairs  for  a  while  after   Mr.  Johnson's  return. 

Mr.  Mason  used  occasionally  to  call  at  our  rooms,  some- 
times leading  a  small  boy  who  was  then  practicing  his  first 

ins  upon  the  piano.  That  boy  was  his  son  William,  the 
now  well-known  and  distinguished  pianist  and  composer, 
and  the  strong  and  true  friend  of  musical  education  in  this 
country. 

Mr.  Jacob  Abbott  used  to  stop  at  the  "  Marlboro  "  when  he 
came  into  the  city,  and  I  remember  once  taking  him  out  for 
a  boat  ride  in  the  "  Shawmut."  He  was  greatly  interested 
in    the   working  of  the  boat,  and  especially  in  the  nautical 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  33 

terms  employed  in  directing  the  ten  oarsmen  and  the  bow- 
man. We  went  through  all  the  maneuvers  we  knew  for  his 
especial  benefit.  All  of  these  appear  in  "Uncle  George's" 
directions  to  Rollo  and  the  boys  on  the  formation  of  their 
boat  club,  in  one  of  the  "  Rollo  Books  "  published  not  long 
after. 

Something  less  than  a  year  remained  of  my  engagement 
with  Mr.  Johnson  when  a  change  took  place  in  our  church 
matters.  For  some  reason  Mr.  Mason  decided  that  he 
would  rather  be  at  Winter  Street  (Central)  Church,  and 
what  he  wished  was  generally  accomplished  in  those  days, 
so  it  was  arranged  that  he  should  come  there  where  Mr. 
Johnson  and  I  had  had  charge,  and  that  I  should  go  to 
Bowdoin  street,  Mr.  Johnson  remaining  at  Park  street.  It 
was  hard  for  me  to  follow  Mr.  Mason  and  his  magnificent 
choir  with  any  hope  of  success,  but  all  the  people  who 
were  interested  realized  my  difficulty  and  were  very  consid- 
erate and  kind.  If  there  were  complaints  or  unpleasant 
comparisons  they  never  came  to  my  ears.  It  wras  thought 
best  that  my  headquarters  should  be  Bowdoin  street,  the 
convenient  rooms  that  Mr.  Mason  had  used  for  teaching 
being  placed  at  my  disposal,  so  I  made  an  amicable  arrange- 
ment with  Mr.  Johnson  for  the  balance  of  my  five  years' 
agreement  and  commenced  on  my  own  account.  Most  of 
Mr.  Mason's  choir  went  with  him.  Of  those  who  remained 
my  memory  dwells  most  upon  one  of  whom  I  have  often 
thought  since  that  he  denied  himself  the  advantages  and 
enjoyment  of  his  place  in  the  best  choir  in  the  country  to 
help  me  in  my  difficult  undertaking,  but  his  way  was  so 
peculiar  (so  good  in  some  respects)  that  I  mention  it  here. 
He  was  one  of  Mr.  Mason's  best  base  singers,  both  in  the 
Academy's  chorus  and  in  the  choir,  considerably  older  than 
myself,  a  prosperous  business  man,  prominent  in  the  church 
and   in   the  Sunday-school,  opinionated,  decided  and  out- 


34  THE    STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

spoken  on  every  question  in  which  he  took  an  interest,  but 
with  clear-cut  ideas  of  subordination  which  had  been  inten- 
sified by  his  long  course  of  training  under  the  best  musical 
disciplinarian  that  this  country  has  ever  seen.  I  did  not 
know  all  this  then,  although  I  had  been  acquainted  with 
him  for  two  or  three  years,  so  was  in  some  anxiety  when  I 
learned  that  he  was  going  to  stay  at  Bowdoin  street,  lest  I 
might  find  it  difficult  to  be  master  of  the  situation.  It  was 
with  considerable  trepidation  that  I  went  to  the  first  re- 
hearsal, but  instead  of  greeting  me  in  his  outspoken  way  or 
patronizing  me  as  I  feared  he  would,  my  friend  was  seated 
in  his  place,  not  saying  a  word  to  any  one.  It  was  time  to 
begin,  but  I  had  been  delayed  by  one  thing  and  another  and 
was  a  little  behind  time  in  starting.  I  knew  how  exact 
everything  had  been  there,  and  thought  that  perhaps  Mr. 
I  Jen  son  might  take  me  to  task  on  the  spot,  but  not  a  word 
did  he  say,  and  during  the  evening,  when  I  appealed  to  him 
on  some  musical  point,  or  asked  him  some  questions  con- 
cerning their  customs,  his  answers,  given  with  an  almost 
timid,  downcast  look,  were  in  a  subdued  and  most  respect- 
ful tone  of  voice.  To  say  that  I  was  astonished  is  to  put  it 
mildly.  Could  this  be  the  man  who,  although  kind  enough, 
had  always  treated  me  in  his  bluff  way  like  a  boy?  But  be- 
fore the  evening  was  out  I  had  a  glimmering  of  his  purpose, 
and  after  all  were  gone  I  was  not  left  in  the  least  doubt. 
First  he  looked  carefully  around  to  see  that  no  one  was  in 
sight  or  hearing,  and  then  went  through  a  list  of  my  short- 
comings in  his  off-hand,  decided  way.  First,  I  was  behind 
time  in  beginning — how  was  I  to  expect  promptness  on  the 
part  of  the  choir  if  I  was  not  prompt  myself? — then  there 
was  this  fault  and  that  fault  in  the  singing  that  I  did  not 
correct ;  and  he  did  not  believe  my  making  the  choir  laugh 
now  and  then  would  wear  well  in  the  long  run,  etc.  I  have 
often  been  thankful  that  I  did  not  resent  these   criticisms, 


THE   STORY   OF  A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  35 

for,  although  I  did  not  always  take  his  advice,  I  received 
much  help  from  him  in  the  months  that  followed,  and  his 
personal  example  of  subordination  and  ready  obedience  in 
the  choir  was  invaluable  in  getting  it  into  order. 

After  I  had  been  at  Bowdoin  street  a  few  months,  Mr. 
Jacob  Abbott,  on  one  of  his  visits  to  Boston,  asked  if  he 
could  go  with  me  to  one  of  my  class  singing  lessons.  Yes, 
he  could  go  to  one  of  the  public  school  lessons  or  to  an 
evening  class  of  ladies  and  gentlemen.  I  think  he  went  to 
both,  but  remember  particularly  his  visit  to  the  evening 
class.  I  knew  that  he  was  a  great  educator,  and  that  his 
"  Mt.  Vernon  School  for  Young  Ladies  "  in  Boston  had  been 
famous  a  few  years  before.  Mr.  Mason  taught  in  it  (before 
the  public  school  work  began),  and,  when  one  of  the  young 
ladies  died,  composed  a  tune  for  the  hymn  "  Sister,  Thou 
wast  Mild  and  Lovely,"  which  was  written  for  the  occasion, 
and  called  it  "  Mt.  Vernon."  I  think  both  hymn  and  tune 
are  well  known  now.  I  was  very  glad  when  Mr.  Abbott 
seemed  pleased  with  my  classes  and  my  teaching,  but  had 
no  idea  what  that  approval  would  lead  to.  I  found  out  soon 
after,  however.  He  and  his  brothers,  John  S.  C,  Gorham 
and  Charles,  had  just  started  a  young  ladies'  school  in  New 
York  City,  and  he  wrote  them  that  he  thought  he  had  found 
the  teacher  they  wanted  for  the  music  of  their  institution. 
Upon  their  answering,  Mr.  Jacob  spoke  to  me  on  the  sub- 
ject of  going  there.  I  hesitated;  I  was  doing  well,  had  a 
large  circle  of  good  friends,  was  near  my  old  home,  etc.,  but 
Mr.  Abbott  said :  "  There  is  a  great  field  in  New  York — 
nothing  like  Mr.  Mason's  work  and  yours  has  been  done 
there.  Here  Mr.  Mason  and  Mr.  Webb  are  at  the  head,  and 
you  must  for  a  long  time  occupy  a  subordinate  place.  There 
you  will  have  a  clear  field,  and  I  think  you  can  sustain  your- 
self in  it.  We  want  such  work  as  you  can  do  in  our  school, 
and  we  think  other  institutions  will  want  the  same  when 


36  THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

the}-  know  what  it  is."  He  offered  a  generous  price  for  a 
daily  class  lesson  five  days  in  the  week,  I  to  have  the  en- 
tire amount  I  could  make  from  private  instruction.  He 
thought,  also,  that  at  Mercer  Street  Church — Dr.  Skinner's 
— where  he  attended  church,  they  were  considering  a  change, 
and  he  believed  they  would  like  our  kind  of  large  choir. 
After  talking  with  the  folks  at  home  and  my  good  friends  in 
Boston  about  the  matter,  I  finally  said:  "  If  the  church  posi- 
tion can  be  secured,  I  will  go."  "  Well,  come  and  stay  a 
few  days  with  us,  and  let  the  people  see  and  hear  you,  and 
we  believe  it  will  be  brought  about."  I  went,  gave  a  lesson 
or  two  to  the  young  ladies  in  class  assembled,  talked  with 
the  church  people,  played  the  organ  a  little,  and,  at  a  com- 
pany assembled  at  Mr.  Abbott's  for  the  purpose,  sang  my 
repertoire  of  songs  from  Russell's  "  Ivy  Green  "  to  Schu- 
bert's "  Wanderer."  The  next  day  the  matter  was  settled 
for  church  and  school,  and  I  went  back  to  Boston  to  arrange 
for  a  speedy  commencement  of  my  w7ork  in  the  great  city 
of  New  York.  It  wras  some  time  in  1844  that  I  left  Boston 
for  my  new  field  of  labor. 


THE   STORY   OF  A   MUSICAL   LJF3.  37 


CHAPTER   IV. 

1 844-1847,  NEW  YORK — ABBOTT'S  SCHOOL  FOR  YOUNG  LADIES 
— RUTGERS  FEMALE  INSTITUTE — MISS  HAINES'  SCHOOL — 
THE  UNION  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY — THE  NEW  YORK 
INSTITUTION  FOR  THE  BLIND  AND  THE  MERCER  ST.  PRES- 
BYTERIAN CHURCH — MY  MARRIAGE — MY  QUARTET  AND 
PERFORMANCE  AT  THE  PHILHARMONIC — SUMMER  CONVEN- 
TION WORK  WITH  MESSRS.  MASON  AND  WEBB — MR.  JACOB 
ABBOTT'S   ADVICE   ABOUT   THE    WAY   TO    KEEP   A    DIARY. 

ABBOTT'S  school  for  young  ladies  at  that  time  was  in 
one  of  the  fine  houses  in  the  white  marble  row  in  La- 
fayette Place,  New  York,  spacious  and  convenient  beyond 
anything  I  had  before  seen.  I  found  the  work  delightful. 
Our  methods  were  new,  as  Mr.  Abbott  had  said  they  would 
be,  and  no  one  having  made  class  teaching  and  singing  te- 
dious and  unpopular  in  the  school  it  was  not  difficult  to 
arouse  and  keep  up  an  interest  in  the  lessons.  We  had  fre- 
quent visitors — parents  and  friends  of  the  young  ladies,  and 
other  persons  interested  in  seeing  the  new  work,  and  later 
on  in  hearing  the  pleasant  part-singing.  This  singing  in 
parts  came  along  astonishingly  soon,  for  three-quarters  of  an 
hour  every  school  day  with  those  bright,  interested  girls  was 
very  different  from  the  two  half  hours  a  week  that  I  had 
been  accustomed  to  in  the  Public  Schools  of  Boston. 

The  work  had  been  going  on  but  a  few  weeks  when  T 
observed  one  day  a  large,  benignant-looking  old  gentleman, 
accompanied  by  two  younger  men,  looking  on  and  appar- 
ently taking  an  unusual  interest  in  the  lesson  I  was  giving. 
This  was  Dr.  Isaac  Ferris,  then  pastor  of  Rutgers  Street 


38  TIIK    STORY    OF   A    MUSICAL    LIFE. 

Church,  and  President  of  the  Board  of  Trustees  of  Rutgers 
Female  Institute,  and  afterward  Chancellor  of  the  New  York 
University,  and  two  of  the  Rutgers  Institute  trustees.  They 
came  to  see  if  the  new  Yankee  music  teacher  would  do  for 
their  celebrated  old  Knickerbocker  institution,  of  which 
Prof.  Charles  E.West,  W,.  D.,  was  then  Principal.  The 
result  was  that  I  soon  added  a  daily  lesson  at  Rutgers  to  my 
work.  This  institution  then  occupied  a  large,  commodious 
building  on  Madison  street,  which  had  been  erected  for  its 
use.  Here  I  met  four  hundred  girls  and  young  ladies  five 
days  in  the  week,  giving  three-quarters  of  an  hour  at  each 
session.  Of  my  ten  years'  work  in  this  institution  I  shall 
have  frequent  occasion  to  speak,  as  my  story  goes  on. 

My  duties  at  Mercer  Street  Church  commenced  very  soon 
after  my  arrival  in  New  York.  The  chapel  of  the  church 
was  just  back  of  the  main  building,  and  facing  on  Greene 
street.  Here  wTere  lecture  room  and  Sunday -school  rooms; 
and  over  the  main  entrance  a  fine  octagonal  room,  which 
had  been  especially  prepared  as  a  study  for  the  pastor,  but 
Dr.  Skinner  preferred  his  home  study,  which  was  next  door, 
and  this  most  convenient  room  for  my  purposes  was  turned 
over  to  me.  I  met  the  choir  every  Saturday  night  in  the 
lecture  room,  but  heard  individual  voices  and  gave  some 
private  lessons  in  this  smaller  room,  which  was  my  pleasant 
musical  home  during  my  entire  New  York  life. 

I  remember  well  my  first  lesson  at  a  pupil's  home  in 
New  York.  She  was  one  of  the  young  ladies  of  the  Abbott 
School,  and  lived  on  University  Place  near  Twelfth  street. 
I  mention  it  because  it  will  seem  strange  to  those  who  know 
New  York  now,  that  this  point  should  even  then  have  been 
so  far  "  up  town."  I  was  a  few  minutes  too  early  when  I 
reached  the  house,  and  thought  I  would  walk  on  to  an  open- 
ing I  saw  ahead  at  Fourteenth  street.  It  was  rough  ground 
where  Union  Square  now  is,  and  only  scattered  houses  and 


THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE.  39 

blocks  around  and  beyond.  A  further  showing  of  the  great 
change  in  New  York  since  those  days  is  seen  in  the  fact  that 
Miss  Haines'  celebrated  School  for  Young  Ladies,  in  which 
I  commenced  teaching  soon  after,  was  then  on  Chambers 
street  near  Broadway.  It  was  some  years  after  that  that 
Mason  Brothers  moved  from  Park  Row  to  Duane  street, 
because  they  needed  larger  quarters,  and  could  get  a  large 
building  there  at  a  very  low  rent,  because  it  was  so  far  up 
town,  and  so  near  the  residence  portion  of  the  city.  The 
business  sagacity  of  the  house  was,  however,  shown  there  as 
it  was  in  many  other  "  moves  "  in  following  years.  They 
had  a  long  lease,  and  sold  the  balance  of  it  for  a  good  sized 
fortune  after  they  had  occupied  the  place  two  or  three  years. 

In  my  choir  were  some  students  of  the  Union  Theolog- 
ical Seminar}-,  then  near  by,  on  University  Place,  between 
Eighth  street  and  Waverly  Place.  Two  of  the  names,  Jes- 
sup  and  Harding,  are  known  to  all  persons  interested  in 
foreign  missions,  those  men  having  been  at  the  head  of  mis- 
sionary work  in  India  for  many  years.  In  due  time  it  was 
brought  about  that  I  should  give  two  lessons  a  week  to  the 
students  in  the  Seminary,  and  the  year  after  I  commenced 
daily  class  lessons  in  the  New  York  State  Institution  for  the 
Blind.  This  establishment  occupied  a  large,  fine  building 
facing  Ninth  avenue,  and  owned  the  entire  block  of  ground 
between  Thirty-second  and  Thirty-third  streets,  and  Eighth 
and  Ninth  avenues,  then  far  up  towm.  In  walking  over 
from  Twenty-fourth  street  and  Fourth  avenue,  as  I  some- 
times did,  I  crossed  corn  and  potato  fields,  and  remember 
occasionally  being  much  disgusted  at  soiling  my  clean  shoes 
in  a  muddy  ditch  where  Madison  Square  now7  is. 

Within  six  weeks  after  the  commencement  of  my  work 
in  New  York  I  was  fully  occupied.  I  had  not  all  the  class 
teaching  then  that  came  to  me  afterward,  but  all  my  spare 
time  was  filled  with  private  lessons.  ■  As  the  class-wrork  in- 
creased I  turned  the  private  lessons  over  to  others. 


40  THE    STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE. 

Iii  Mr.  Mason's  choir  in  Boston  were  several  members  of 
a  very  musical  family  by  the  name  of  Woodman.  One  of  the 
sons,  Mr.  J.  C.  Woodman,  had  a  fine  baritone  voice,  and  was 
one  of  the  soloists  in  the  Boston  Academy  of  Music.  He 
was  a  teacher  of  music,  and,  as  I  have  mentioned,  was  Mr. 
Mason's  first  assistant  in  the  introduction  of  music  into 
the  Public  Schools  of  Boston.  He  was  also  a  good  com- 
poser and  organist.  He  is  the  author  of  "  State  Street," 
which,  according  to  the  law  of  "  the  survival  of  the  fittest," 
has  come  down  to  us  with  the  tunes  which  are  still  the 
standards  in  our  churches  where  worship,  and  not  musical 
display,  is  the  object.  His  son,  R.  Huntington  Woodman, 
of  Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  is  now  one  of  the  most  promising  young 
organists  of  this  or  any  other  country,  having  recently  re- 
ceived endorsements  to  that  effect  from  the  highest  musical 
authorities  of  London  and  Paris,  where  he  played  in  1888. 

Within  a  year  after  I  went  to  New  York  ( in  August, 
1845)  I  married  J.  C.  Woodman's  sister,  Mary  Olive.  She 
was  an  accomplished  singer,  and  if  my  children  inherit  mu- 
sical qualities  they  get  quite  as  much  from  her  side  of  the 
house  as  from  mine. 

During  my  first  winter  at  Mercer  Street  Church  I  often 
said  to  the  officers  of  the  church  that  I  could  make  the  choir 
much  better  if  they  would  have  the  key-board  of  the  organ 
brought  out  to  the  front  of  the  gallery  so  that  the  choir 
could  be  before  me  (between  me  and  the  organ),  instead  of 
behind  me  while  I  was  playing — that  my  voice  would  help 
more,  and  my  directions  be  better  understood  and  observed, 
if  I  could  see  all  the  choir  and  they  could  see  me.  I  also 
suggested  that  while  they  were  about  it  they  might  make 
some  much-needed  improvement  in  the  organ  itself.  This 
was  done  the  next  summer.  A  judicious  expenditure  of 
two  thousand  dollars  made  a  great  change  in  the  fine  old  in- 
strument.     I  was  married  during  the  vacation,  and  when  I 


THE    STORY    OF    A    MUSICAL    LIFE.  4 1 

returned  and  put  the  new  soprano  and  the  other  leading 
voices  in  front  of  me,  with  the  remaining  members  of  the 
choir,  thirty  or  forty  in  number,  at  their  sides,  but  all  in 
sight,  I  felt  like  a  king  upon  his  throne,  certain  of  his  ability 
to  control  and  take  care  of  his  entire  kingdom. 

And  now  my  sisters  came  along,  one  after  another,  and 
went  to  school  either  at  Rutgers  or  Abbott's,  and  under 
greater  advantages  pursued  their  musical  studies.  My 
brother,  of  whom  I  have  previously  spoken,  and  Mr.  Henry 
T.  Lincoln,  a  noble  base,  who  began  his  musical  career  in 
my  first  singing  school  at  the  "  North  End"  in  Boston,  in 
'39,  also  came,  both  to  sing  in  my  choir  and  to  assist  me  in 
my  teaching.  A  little  later  my  youngest  brother,  William 
A.  Root,  also  came,  and  went  to  a  commercial  school  and 
then  into  a  business  office.  One  of  my  sisters  had  an  ex- 
cellent contralto  voice,  and  we  now  had  a  well-balanced 
home  quartet — wife,  sister,  brother  and  self,  and  adding  Mr. 
Lincoln,  a  good  quintet.  We  took  great  delight  in  practicing 
some  of  the  Mendelssohn  part-songs,  then  comparatively 
new,  and  such  old  madrigals  and  glees  as  were  set  for 
soprano,  alto,  tenor,  baritone  and  base.  William  Mason, 
then  a  very  young  man,  had  written  a  serenade,  entitled 
"Slumber  Sweetly,  Dearest,"  that  we  greatly  delighted  in. 
(See  page  228.) 

After  a  while  we  found  we  were  singing  with  a  balance 
and  blending  sometimes  heard  in  very  simple  music  by  such 
singers  as  the  Hutchinson  family  (then  in  the  zenith  of  their 
success),  but  rarely  if  ever  (in  our  experience)  in  music  of  a 
higher  grade,  and  this  encouraged  me  to  strive  for  the  high- 
est perfection  possible  in  every  point  that  I  could  think  of 
for  my  quartet.  In  one  of  our  summer  vacations  we  all 
went  to  the  old  home  in  North  Reading,  and  practiced  to- 
gether every  day  for  six  weeks — some  days  hours  at  a  time 
on  a  repertoire  of  about  five  numbers.     At  last  I,  who  was 


*2  tiik   STORV   OF  A   MUSICAI,   LIFE. 

the  leader,  had  n<  i  more  to  think  of  the  others  while  we  were 
singing  together  than  it"  1  had  been  singing  alone.  I  could 
carry  out  every  conception  I  had  in  the  way  of  expression 
—increasing,  diminishing,  accelerating  or  retarding,  sudden 
attack  or  delicate  shading,  with  the  utmost  freedom,  being 
sure  that  all  would  go  exactly  with  me.  I  had  for  some  time 
i  feeling  that  a  musical  demonstration  might  have  to  be 
made  in  New  York,  and  on  their  own  ground,  musically,  to 
some  of  the  chronic  contemners  of  simple  music,  and  of  our 
New  England  way  of  teaching  it.  I  knew  that  as  soloists 
none  of  us  would  be  regarded  as  anything  more  than  medi- 
ocre, but  I  believed  that  as  a  quartet,  with  the  work  we 
had  done,  we  should  at  least  close  their  mouths  as  to  our 
musical  competency. 

Fortunately,  at  the  previous  Commencement  of  the  Rut- 
gers Female  Institute,  Theodor  Eisfeld,  the  then  conductor 
of  the  New  York  Philharmonic  Society— the  most  important 
musical  association  in  the  country — was  one  of  a  committee 
of  three  to  examine  the  singing  class.  He  pronounced  the 
work  good,  and  so  reported.  So,  soon  after  the  autumn  work 
commenced,  I  asked  Mr.  Eisfeld  to  come  and  hear  us  sing  a 
quartet.  He  was  evidently  not  at  all  elated  by  the  musical 
prospect  before  him,  but  he  was  good-natured  and  came.  We 
began  with  Mendelssohn's  "  Hunting  Song."  Perhaps  it  was 
because  of  his  surprise,  but  his  praises  were  extravagant; 
so  much  so  that  I  will  not  repeat  them  here.  We  sang  other 
quartets  at  his  request,  and  then  came  the  invitation  that  I 
had  been  working  for:  "  Will  you  sing  two  numbers  at  the 
next  Philharmonic  concert?"  "Oh,  yes,  with  pleasure,"  and 
we  did.  We  sang  the  "Hunting  Song"  and  Wm.  Mason's 
'•  Serenade."  We  were  somewhat  abashed  on  that  occasion 
at  the  first  sound  of  our  voices — it  was  such  a  musical  at- 
mosphere  as  we  had  never  been  in  before  as  performers,  but 
we  soon  pulled  ourselves  together,  and  when  at  the  end  of 


THE   STORY    OF   A    MUSICAL    UF£.  43 

the  first  quartet  the  musicians  of  the  orchestra  laid  down 
their  instruments  and  joined  the  audience  in  hearty  applause 
we  knew  our  object  had  been  accomplished.  The  "Sere- 
nade" was  encored,  and  the  next  day  the  papers  said  only 
pleasant  things  of  our  performances.  We  heard  nothing 
more,  in  a  disagreeable  way,  about  the  Yankee  singing  mas- 
ter. We  had  passed  the  ordeal  successfully  at  the  highest 
musical  tribunal,  and  that  ended  the  matter.  From  that 
time  on  I  had  the  good  will  and  friendship  of  the  best  musi- 
cians in  New  York,  to  the  end  of  my  stay  in  that  city. 

The  summer  vacations  in  New  York  were  longer  than 
those  of  Boston,  so  I  could  continue  my  connection  with  the 
great  Teachers'  Classes  of  the  Boston  Academy  of  Music  and 
of  similar  gatherings  under  the  direction  of  Messrs.  Mason 
and  Webb  in  other  parts  of  the  country.  This  was  from 
1845  onward.  It  was  also  a  great  delight  to  go  with  Mr. 
Mason,  when  I  could,  to  the  day  school  Teachers'  Institutes, 
which  were  conducted  by  Horace  Mann  and  other  great 
educators  of  that  day.  They  prized  Mr.  Mason's  lessons 
exceedingly.  Mr.  Mann  said  he  would  walk  fifty  miles  to 
see  Mr.  Mason  teach  if  he  could  not  otherwise  have  that 
advantage. 

That  work  helped  me  greatly,  for  there  the  principles  of 
teaching  as  an  art  were  more  clearly  set  forth  than  they  were 
in  our  musical  work.  Once,  I  remember,  at  an  Institute  in 
Chelsea  near  Boston  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  and  hearing 
Louis  Agassiz,  the  great  naturalist— the  man  who  never 
forgot  anything  that  he  had  once  seen  from  a  beetle  to  a 
human  being.  He  was  one  of  the  model  teachers  on  that 
occasion,  and  it  was  beautiful  to  see  the  facility  and  accuracy 
with  which  he  drew  upon  the  blackboard  every  kind  of  insect 
of  which  he  spoke,  and  most  interesting  and  instructive  to 
listen  to  his  clear  Pestalozzian  teaching  in  regard  to  them. 
I  met  him  but  for  a  moment  as  a  hundred  others  did  at  that 


44  THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   UFE. 

time,  but  many  years  after,  on  being  presented  to  him  in  a 
literary  gathering  in  Chicago,  he  said,  "Ah,  I  have  met  you 
before— at  an  Institute  in  Chelsea,  I  think."  This  is  men- 
tioned only  to  illustrate  one  faculty  possessed  by  that  great 
man,  the  extent  of  which  may  not  be  generally  known. 

Rochester,  N.  Y.,  was  a  favorite  place  for  a  week  or  ten 
days'  musical  convention  right  after  the  Boston  meeting. 
The  vocal  training  class  had  succeeded  so  well  that  they 
decided  to  try  harmony,  and  Mr.  Johnson  went  along  for 
that.  I  remember  one  lovely  summer  day  when  we  were 
thirty  or  forty  miles  from  Auburn  on  our  way  to  Rochester, 
that  we  found  ourselves  almost  the  only  occupants  of  a  large 
car.  The  windows  were  open  to  the  sweet  air  of  the  harvest 
fields  and  we  were  enjoying  to  the  full  the  change  from  the 
hot  and  dusty  city  to  this  lovely  country.  Presently  at  a 
station  an  hour  or  so  from  Auburn,  fifteen  or  twenty  young 
ladies,  evidently  all  acquainted  with  each  other,  entered,  and 
seated  themselves  around  us.  They  were  in  an  unusually 
merry  mood  and  after  awhile  began  to  sing.  Their  selec- 
tions were  all  from  the  Boston  Glee  Book,  by  Messrs.  Mason 
and  Webb,  and  were  sung  from  memory.  We  also  knew 
every  piece,  and  I  felt  inclined  to  join,  but  Mr.  Mason  looked 
dignified,  and  Mr.  Webb,  I  feared,  might  not  think  it  quite 
proper,  so  I  kept  silent,  but  when  they  began  Mornington's 
Gleer  "  Here  in  cool  grot,"  Mr.  Mason  and  I  evidently 
thought  of  the  same  thing  at  the  same  time — "what  will 
they  do  when  that  bit  of  base  solo  comes  in?"  A  glance 
from  him  was  sufficient,  and  when  the  time  came  I  supplied 
it : — "  Nor  yet  for  artful  strains  we  call,"  then  Mr.  Johnson 
joined,  and,  I  think,  the  older  gentlemen  assisted,  so  that 
before  the  glee  was  through  there  was  quite  a  little  chorus 
effect.  The  young  ladies  were  evidently  astonished,  but  as 
evidently  pleased.  They  said  nothing  to  us,  nor  we  to  them, 
but  went  on  singing,  and  we  continued  to  supply  some  tenor 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  45 

and  base.  At  last  Mr.  Johnson  said  to  the  young  lady  near 
est  to  him,  "  Do  you  know  who  those  two  gentlemen  are  ?  " 
She  answered  that  she  did  not.  "Well,  they  are  Lowell 
Mason  and  George  James  Webb,  the  authors  of  the  book 
you  have  been  singing  from."  That  was  to  her  a  tremen- 
dous piece  of  information.  The  young  singers  of  the  coun- 
try then  regarded  those  two  men  as  most  exalted  beings. 
Almost  the  only  books  used  were  theirs,  and  their  influence 
and  fame  were  unbounded.  The  word  flew  from  one  to 
another  and  not  another  note  was  sung.  Presently  one  of 
the  older  ones  explained  to  Mr.  Webb  that  they  were  all 
attending  a  young  ladies'  school  in  Auburn,  and  two  or  three 
hours  before  had  come  in  a  body  to  the  station  at  Auburn  to 
to  see  a  school-mate  off,  and  that  the  conductor  had  invited 
them  to  take  this  ride,  and  now  they  were  returning.  I 
remember  that  we  did  not  go  on  from  Auburn  until  the  next 
morning  (there  was  no  thought  of  sleeping  cars  in  those 
days),  and  that,  at  this  young  lady's  invitation,  Mr.  Webb 
and  I  called  upon  her  at  her  father's  house  in  the  evening. 
My  Quintet  went  once  during  a  summer  vacation  with 
Mr.  Johnson  on  a  short  convention  tour  into  New  York 
State,  and  that  was  about  the  last  of  both  Quartet  and  Quin- 
tet for  concert  singing,  for  my  sister  became  engaged  to  a 
New  York  gentleman  who  objected  to  that  sort  of  publicity 
for  her.  Once  I  remember  that  I  so  far  overcame  his  scruples 
that  he  gave  his  consent  to  her  singing  at  a  concert  that 
Gottschalk  was  to  give  in  Dodworth's  Hall,  but  when  the 
time  came  she  was  too  ill  to  sing  and  some  other  perform- 
ance took  our  place.  I  mention  it  because  we  were  to  sing 
there  a  quartet  that  Mr.  Eisfeld  composed  for  us  soon  after 
our  advent  at  the  Philharmonic,  and  which  we  had  sung,  I 
think,  at  one  of  his  chamber  concerts,  and  with  great  delight 
in  our  practice  and  to  friends.  It  begins,  "  On  the  lake's 
unruffled  surface,"  and  I  presume  may  still  be  found.  It 
will  repay  careful  study.     (See  page  229.) 


46  THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LJFK. 

I  ought  to  say  something  more  here  of  that  remarkable 
family  with  whom  it  was  my  good  fortune  to  be  connected 
during  my  ten  years  in  New  York.  The  published  works  of 
Jacob  Abbott  and  of  John  S.  C.  Abbott  are  known.  In  the 
legal  profession  the  works  of  Benjamin  Vaughan  Abbott 
and  of  Austin  Abbott  are,  I  am  told,  regarded  as  standards, 
and  in  the  theological  and  editorial  world  Lyman  Abbott  is 
one  of  the  most  eminent  men  of  the  present  time.  These 
three  last  mentioned  are  sons  of  Jacob  Abbott,  and  were 
boys  at  the  time  of  which  I  wTrite.  That,  however,  which  is 
not  "  known  and  read  of  all"  is  the  home  and  school-life  of 
these  admirable  men.  In  their  homes  and  in  their  school- 
rooms, with  each  other  and  with  all  who  were  connected 
with  them,  either  as  pupils  or  teachers,  their  intercourse  was 
characterized  by  a  sincerity  and  a  gentle  friendliness  so 
steady  and  so  constant  that  breaking  over  it  into  roughness 
of  any  kind  or  into  disobedience  seemed  impossible.  I  saw 
no  outbreak  or  case  of  "discipline"  in  all  the  years  that  I 
was  with  them.  That  their  excellent  methods  and  great 
skill  and  attainments  as  teachers  had  something  to  do  with 
the  result  will  of  course  be  understood.  They  were  called 
in  the  school  by  no  other  names  than  "  Mr.  Jacob,"  "Mr. 
John,"  "  Mr.  Gorham,"  and  "  Mr.  Charles,"  and  I  was  always 
"  Mr.  George,"  and  my  brother  "  Mr.  Towner." 

As  larger  buildings  were  needed  the  school  was  moved, 
first  to  Houston  ^street,  then  to  Bleecker,  both  near  Broad- 
wax.  I  can  not  remember  just  when  the  brothers  decided 
to  have  two  schools,  and  now  I  miss  my  diary  again.  In 
fact,  as  I  go  on,  I  miss  it  more  and  more.  That  book,  by  the 
way,  and  the  circumstances  that  caused  it,  are  worth  speak- 
ing of. 

Early  in  my  New  York  life  Mr.  Jacob  said  to  me  one 
day:  "Did  you  ever  keep  a  diary?"  "Yes,"  I  answered,  "  I 
have  begun  a  half  dozen  at  least."  "You  haven't  any  of 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  47 

them  now?"  "No."  "You  burned  each  one  after  writing  a 
few  weeks  or  a  few  months  in  it."  "Yes."  "Was  it  because 
you  had  been  so  sentimental  that  you  gradually  grew  tired 
of  what  you  had  written,  and  at  last  ashamed  to  have  any 
one  see  it?"  I  laughed  and  said  it. was  exactly  so.  "Well," 
he  said,  "that  is  a  very  common  experience.  I  will  tell  you 
what  kind  of  a  diary  you  will  never  wish  to  burn.  Get  a 
good  sized,  substantially  bound  blank-book  and  record  in  it 
simply  facts  of  your  every-day  life ;  first,  every  event  of  your 
past  life,  with  its  date,  that  you  think  you  would  like  to  re- 
member years  hence,  then  begin  where  you  are  now  and  do 
the  same  thing  every  day.  Speak  of  pupils,  letters,  people 
you  see,  concerts,  classes,  journeys — in  short,  every  occur- 
rence of  any  prominence  that  is  connected  with  your  work 
or  home.  Do  not  give  an  opinion  or  admit  a  word  of  senti- 
ment in  regard  to  any  of  the  records  you  make,  but  let  them 
be  stated  in  the  briefest  and  most  concise  manner  possible. 
They  may  look  dry  to  you  now,  but  years  hence  they  will  be 
full  of  associations  of  the  successful  and  pleasant  life  you  are 
now  living,  and  instead  of  growing  tiresome  as  j-ou  read 
them,  they  will  become  more  and  more  interesting  and  val- 
uable." 

I  saw  at  once  how  good  this  advice  was,  and  went  right 
off  to  Mr.  Ivison  (who  was  then  a  member  of  Mercer  Street 
choir)  and  had  the  book  made.  It  was  as  large  as  a  good- 
sized  ledger,  was  bound  in  strong  leather,  and  so  arranged 
that  it  could  be  locked.  As  soon  as  it  was  done  I  asked  Mr. 
Jacob  to  come  and  see  it.  He  came,  and  when  he  had 
looked  and  approved  I  asked  him  to  begin  it  for  me.  He 
did,  and  this  is  about  what  he  wrote : 

"Mr.  George  has  brought  me  in  here  to  see  his  new  book. 
This  is  his  music  room.  It  is  octagonal  in  shape,  two  corners  being 
cut  off  for  closets  and  two  for  doors  of  entrance.  The  wood-work  is 
oak.     An  octagonal  table  occupies  the  center,  and  book-cases  with 


48  THE    STORY    OF    A.    MUSICAL    LIFE. 

glass  doors  are  on  the  side  between  the  doors.  There  is  a  piano  and 
a  lounge  here,  and  several  easy  chairs  in  convenient  places.  Twenty 
years  hence,  Mr.  George,  when  you  read  this  in  some  totally  different 
scene  let  it  remind  you  of  your  New  York  music  room  and 

"  Mr.  Jacob." 

I  did  as  he  advised— began  with  my  early  life,  and  found 
I  could  recall  almost  everything  of  importance  before  going 
to  Boston,  and  while  there,  then  started  from  that  time  (early 
in  1845)  to  make  short  daily  records.  This  went  through 
my  New  York  life,  my  first  stay  in  Europe,  and  my  early 
convention  work  to  1871,  when  we  were  in  full  tide  of  suc- 
cessful business  in  Chicago — more  than  twenty-five  years  of 
brief,  close  record.  The  book  was  but  little  more  than  half 
full,  and  how  true  were  Mr.  Jacob's  ideas  about  the  memo- 
ries and  associations  it  recalled.  "Closing  exercises  at  Rut- 
gers to-day"  was  not  merely  the  record  of  a  musical  exer- 
cise twenty  }Tears  before.  About  that  commonplace  event 
were  now  summer  flowers,  bright  skies  and  dear  friends — 
and  the  flowers  grew  sweeter,  the  skies  brighter,  and  the 
friends  dearer  as  the  years  rolled  on.  But  a  memorable  day 
came  when  my  big  journal  shared  the  fate  of  its  little  pre- 
decessors. It  was  burned  !  But  not  by  my  hand.  It  went 
up,  with  many  other  mementos  of  my  former  life,  in  the 
flames  of  the  great  Chicago  fire. 

Somebody  may  be  as  much  obliged  to  me  as  I  was  to  Mr. 
Jacob  for  this  suggestion  about  the  way  to  keep  a  diary. 


THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE.  49 


CHAPTER   V. 

1 848-1849,  NEW  YORK — SPINGLER  INSTITUTE — ADDING  DIFFI- 
CULTIES TO  THE  MUSICAL  WORK  OF  MY  CLASSES — REFER- 
ENCE TO  DR.  MASON'S  FIRST  "SINGING  SCHOOL" — MY 
FIRST  EFFORTS  AT  COMPOSITION  AND  BOOK-MAKING — 
DIFFERENT    MUSICAL    GRADES — JENNY   LIND. 

TT  must  have  been  about  1848  that  the  heirs  of  the  Sping- 
*-  ler  estate  in  New  York  city  erected  a  fine  stone  building 
on  Union  Square,  between  Fourteenth  and  Fifteenth  streets, 
for  Mr.  Gorham  Abbott's  school.  On  the  corner  of  Fifteenth 
street,  where  Tiffany  now  is,  had  already  been  built  a  large 
church  for  Dr.  Cheever.  Mr.  Gorham  Abbott's  school  was 
called  the  "  Spingler  Institute,"  and  the  church  was  called 
the  "Church  of  the  Puritans."  Mr.  Spingler  Was  a  dairy- 
man, who  some  years  before  had  kept  his  cows  thereabout. 
His  little  farm  took  in  some  acres  from  where  Union  Square 
now  is,  to  near  Sixth  avenue,  and  from  Fourteenth  street 
upward  a  block  or  two. 

People  were  disposed  to  be  humorous  about  the  name 
"  Spingler  "  at  first.  It  was  suggested  that  "  Spinster  Insti- 
tute "  would  be  more  appropriate,  but  the  result  was  a  good 
illustration  of  the  fact  that  a  name,  whether  of  a  person,  or 
a  town,  or  a  street,  or  an  institute,  takes  on  the  character  of 
what  it  names.  If  that  is  excellent  or  beautiful,  the  name 
soon  becomes  so  to  those  interested,  however  lacking  it  may 
be  in  euphony  or  beauty  in  the  abstract.  "  Spingler  "  soon 
lost  its  odd  sound  to  us  and  came  to  be  just  the  word  to 
mean  an  elegant  .structure,  fitted  in  a  costly  manner  for  its 
purposes,  and  filled  with  young  ladies  of  culture  and  refine- 
ment. 


50  THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

Mr.  Abbott  was  constantly  adding  to  the  attractiveness 
of  the  institution  by  various  means.  One  of  his  most  im- 
portant purchases  was  the  original  "  Voyage  of  Life,"  by 
Thomas  Cole — four  large  pictures — which  he  hung  on  the 
walls  of  the  Chapel  where  the  daily  singing  lessons  were 
given,  and  where  were  enjoyed  many  fine  concerts  and  liter- 
ary entertainments. 

Connected  with  the  Abbott  school  I  often  think  of  a 
bright,  vivacious  girl,  who  was  always  conspicuous  in  the 
school  entertainments,  especially  in  those  that  had  any  fun 
in  them.  She  was  an  excellent  scholar  and  a  great  favorite. 
This  was  Helen  Fiske,  now  known  the  world  over  as  Helen 
Hunt  Jackson  (H.  H.). 

One  of  the  first  troubles  that  I  met  in  the  classes  at  Rut- 
gers and  Abbott's  was  that  the  course  which  took  the  whole 
year  in  the  Boston  public  schools  here  lasted  but  a  couple 
of  months,  the  difference  being  between  two  half-hour  les- 
sons a  week  to  children,  and  daily  lessons  of  three-quarters 
of  an  hour  to  young  ladies  and  bright,  interested  girls. 
When  I  saw  the  end  of  my  usual  course  approaching  I  did 
not  know  exactly  what  to  do  for  exercises,  but  finally  de- 
cided to  work  in  the  more  remote  keys,  major  and  minor 
(from  the  blackboard),  and  to  have  the  class  transpose  the 
scales,  both  major  and  harmonic  minor,  through  all  the  keys. 
Understand,  when  I  say  transpose  the  scales  I  mean  just  that. 
Singing  one  exercise  or  tune  in  one  key,  and  then  a  different 
exercise  or  tune  in  another,  is  not  transposing  the  scale — it 
is  not  transposition  at  all.  What  my  classes  did  was  to  sing 
the  scale  in  the  key  of  C,  ascending  and  descending,  and 
then  the  same  in  G,  then  in  D,  and  so  on  through  the  enhar- 
monic change  from  the  key  of  F-sharp  to  the  key  of  G-flat, 
back  to  the  key  of  C — out  through  the  sharps  (so  to  speak), 
and  back  through  the  flats,  or  vice  versa.  First  the  major 
.scales,  then  the  minor,  then  each  major,  followed  by  its  rela- 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  5 1 

tive  minor  in  a  series,  as,  C,  A,  G,  E,  D,  B,  etc.  I  thought 
this  for  exercise  practice  would  occupy  the  year,  but  it  did 
not  take  three  months  to  do  the  work  well,  without  an  in- 
strument, and  to  read  pretty  difficult  diatonic  lessons  in  all 
the  keys,  major  and  minor.  Then  I  began  upon  the  prac- 
tice of  the  chromatic  scale,  feeling  sure  that  that  would  last 
through  the  term,  but  it  did  not.  In  two  months,  or  there- 1 
about,  the  classes  at  Rutgers  and  Spingler  could  sing  that 
series  in  any  key  to  syllables,  or  "la,"  or  "  ah,"  rapidly  and 
accurately.  All  this  is  not  wonderful  now,  but  it  was  then. 
At  the  annual  examinations  of  the  classes  at  Rutgers  three 
of  the  best  musicians  of  the  city  were  regularly  chosen  to 
pass  upon  the  work,  and  the  Principal  and  Trustees  of  the 
Institute,  and  all  concerned,  greatly  enjoyed  their  surprise 
and  unlimited  praise. 

About  the  time  we  had  accomplished  the  work  of  singing 
the  chromatic  scale,  as  above  described,  I  had  occasion  to  go 
to  Boston  for  a  day,  and  told  Mr.  Mason  what  we  had  done. 
"What!  four  hundred  girls  sing  the  chromatic  scale  in  the 
way  you  describe?  I  can't  believe  it."  I  assured  him  that 
it  was  so,  but  left  him  in  evident  doubt.  At  the  next  sum- 
mer vacation,  wThen  we  met  for  the  usual  Teacher's  Class 
and  Convention  work,  he  said  "  That  chromatic  scale  singing 
is  not  so  difficult  after  all.  I  have  tried  it  in  one  of  the 
schools  here,  and  they  do  it  fairly  well  already."  I  make 
this  record  in  the  belief  that  the  musical  exercises  above  de- 
scribed were  the  first  ever  undertaken  in  class-teaching  in 
this  country. 

If  this  seems  strange,  it  must  be  remembered  that  we 
were  then  in  the  early  times  of  class-teaching  as  we  know  it 
now.  It  was  not  many  years  before  that  Wm.  C.  Wood- 
bridge  (who  may  be  remembered  as  the  author  of  a  once 
popular  geography  and  atlas)  called  Mr.  Mason's  attention 
to  Nageli  &  Pfeiffer's  method  of  adapting  Pestalozzi's  idea  of 


52  THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL    LIFE. 

teaching  to  vocal  music.  Mr.  Mason  liked  what  he  could 
see  of  it  very  much  ;  then  Mr.  Woodbridge  said  to  him  :  "  If 
you  will  call  together  a  class  I  will  translate  and  write  out 
each  lesson  for  you  (the  work  was  in  German)  as  you  want 
it,  and  you  can  try  the  method ;  it  will  take  about  twenty- 
four  evenings."  This  was  done,  and  the  class  was  held  in 
the  large  lecture  room  of  Park  Street  Church,  Boston.  Dr. 
Mason  has  often  described  how  he  took  Mr.  Woodbridge's 
translation  in  one  hand  and  his  pointer  in  the  other,  and  de- 
veloped, as  well  as  he  could,  what  was  afterward  embodied 
in  the  "  Teacher's  Manual  of  the  Boston  Academy  of  Music," 
as  the  Pestalozzian  method  of  teaching  vocal  music  in 
classes.  The  class  was  composed  largely  of  prominent  peo- 
ple of  the  city  who  were  interested  in  musical  education,  and 
all  were  greatly  delighted  with  the  new  way. 

That  was  undoubtedly  the  first  class  of  its  kind  ever 
taught  in  the  English  speaking  world,  and  its  essential  prin- 
ciples exist  now  wherever  the  ideas  of  key  relationship  and 
the  movable  "do"  prevail.  Speaking  to  Dr.  Mason  once 
about  this  remarkable  class,  I  asked  him  what  those  ladies 
and  gentleman  paid  for  that  course  of  twenty-four  lessons. 
"  Oh,  they  arranged  tha-t  among  themselves,"  he  replied. 
"They  decided  that  five  dollars  apiece  would  be  about 
right."  "And  how  many  were  there  in  the  class?"  He 
smiled  as  he  answered  :  "About  five  hundred." 

Up  to  this  time  I  had  not  written  anything  to  speak  of. 
I  did  put  together  some  simple  tunes  while  in  Boston,  one 
of  which  ( Rosedale)  has  come  along  down  in  a  modest  way 
with  its  more  popular  companions,  being  occasionally  sung 
and  asked  for  at  the  present  time.  After  I  was  well  under 
way  in  New  York.Mr.  Bradbury  and  Mr.  Woodbury  used  to 
say  :  "  Root,  why  don't  you  make  books;  we  are  doing  well 
in  that  line,"  -but  I  had  no  inclination  that  way.  I  am 
ashamed  to  say  it,  but  I  looked  then  with  some  contempt 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  53 

upon  their  grade  of  work.  My  ladies'  classes  and  choirs 
were  singing  higher  music,  and  my  blind  pupils  were  excit- 
ing the  admiration  of  the  best  musical  people  of  the  city  by 
their  performances  of  a  still  higher  order  of  compositions. 
There  was  a  well-balanced  choir  of  sixty  good  voices  in  this 
institution  for  the  blind,  and  they  worked  with  an  interest 
and  enthusiasm  that  was  wonderful  to  see.  We  sang,  event- 
ually, Romberg's  setting  of  Schiller's  "  Song  of  the  Bell," 
"Morning,"  by  Ries,  several  of  Mendelssohn's  Part-songs, 
and  several  choruses  from  his  and  other  oratorios.  "  Thanks 
be  to  God,  He  laveth  the  thirsty  land,"  from  "Elijah,"  I 
remember  they  liked  best  of  all,  and  sang  extremely  well. 

After  a  while  I  began  to  find  it  difficult  to  get  proper 
music  for  my  girls  at  Rutgers  and  Spingler  to  sing,  and  it 
took  so  much  time  to  select  what  was  needed  and  cost  so 
much  to  get  copies  enough,  that  I  felt  that  something  must 
be  done  in  the  way  of  preparing  music  especially  for  them. 
There  was  also  a  strong  pressure  from  classes  and  teachers 
— at  Rutgers  especially — for  new  music  for  opening  and 
closing  religious  exercises.  So  I  got  together  the  material 
for  my  first  book.  It  was  called  "  The  Young  Indies' 
Choir."  I  did  not  ask  anybody  to  publish  it,  but  just  had 
copies  enough  made  for  my  own  use.  I  don't  think  I  even 
copyrighted  it,  for  I  had  no  thought  then  in  regard  to  com- 
position and  book-making  beyond  supplying  my  own  needs. 
This  book  was  used  two  or  three  years  for  devotional  exer- 
cises, but  its  secular  music  lasted  but  a  few  months,  and  then 
my  brother  and  I  began  the  plan  of  getting  up  pamphlets  of 
such  music  as  I  needed,  still  seeking  no  publisher,  and 
thinking  only  of  my  own  wants.  At  this  time,  too,  I  began 
to  write  and  arrange  music  for  my  choir  in  the  same  way, 
only  I  did  not  need  so  many  copies,  and  so  did  not  go  to  the 
expense  of  having  it  printed.  I  had  manuscript  books  for 
each  part,  and  had  each  part  copied  in,  or,  if  I  found  some- 
thing printed  that  I  liked,  had  it  cut  out  and  pasted  in. 


54 


THE    STORY    OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 


The  first  book  that  I  had  anything  to  do  with  that 
sought  a  publisher  was  made  with  and  at  the  suggestion  of 
the  organist  of  Dr.  Cheever's  church,  then  on  the  corner  of 
Fifteenth  street  and  Broadway,  J.  H.  Sweetser.  It  was  called 
41  Root  &  Sweetser's  Collection."  It  contained  the  music  we 
had  been  gathering  for  our  choirs,  with  such  other  material 
as  we  could  collect  and  purchase,  and  an  elementary  depart- 
ment which,  for  scientific  but  uninteresting  exercises,  could 
not  be  excelled ;  they  were  taken  largely  from  elementary 
works  that  Hullah  was  then  using  in  England.  A  few 
choirs  adopted  the  book,  and  some  of  the  music  is  still  sung ; 
but,  as  a  whole,  it  was  not  at  all  adapted  for  popular  use. 
I  did  not  then  realize  what  people  in  elementary  musical 
states  needed. 

How  true  it  is  that  to  every  music  lover  and  learner 
there  is  a  grade  of  music  in  which  he  lives,  so  to  speak — 
where  he  feels  most  at  home  and  enjoys  himself  best.  When 
he  hears  or  studies  music  that  is  above  that  grade,  if  he  is 
sensible  he  simply  says  :  "  That  is  above  me;  I  am  not  there 
yet."  If  he  is  not  sensible,  he  is  liable  to  say  :  "  There's  no 
music  in  that."  The  conversation  of  two  gentlemen  at  one 
of  our  recent  Thomas  concerts  is  a  good  illustration  of  that 
condition  of  things.  One  says:  "  Do  you  call  that  music?  " 
The  other  answers:  "Yes;  and  the  best  there  is — it  is  a 
composition  by  Wagner."  To  which  his  friend  responds: 
'  Well,  for  my  part,  I  think  Wagner  had  better  stick  to  his 
sleeping  cars,  and  let  music  alone." 

People  change  their  musical  homes,  or  rather  add  to 
them,  as  they  progress  in  musical  appreciation.  At  first 
they  care  only  for  the  little  way-side  flowers  and  simple 
scenery  of  the  land  of  tonic,  dominant  and  subdominant. 
They  regard  the  musical  world  outside  of  that  boundary  as 
a  kind  of  desert,  entirely  unfit  to  live  in,  and  I  may  add  once 
more,   what   has   often   been  said   in  substance,  that  many 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  55 

people  remain  in  this  musical  condition  all  their  lives.  But 
those  who  progress,  begin,  by  and  by,  to  see  some  beauty  in 
the  sturdier  growths  and  the  more  varied  scenery,  and  after 
awhile  realize  that  the  still  unexplored  regions  beyond  may 
be  yet  more  beautiful  when  they  are  reached. 

But  here  there  is  a  danger.  People  in  this  state  are  apt 
to  grow  conceited,  and  to  despise  the  simple  conditions  they 
once  enjoyed.  "  Unworthy,  narrow  and  bigoted  "  are  the 
proper  terms  to  apply  to  such.  The  way-side  flower  has  its 
place  in  the  economy  of  God's  creation  as  truly  as  the  oak, 
and  the  little  hill  and  the  brooklet  are  as  truly  beautiful  as 
the  mountain  and  torrent  are  grand. 

"  But,"  some  one  says,  "  there  is  so  much  trash  in  the 
simple  music  of  the  day."  There  is  trash  at  every  musical 
grade,  even  to  the  highest.  How  much  that  is  grotesque 
and  senseless  is  seen  in  the  ambitious  attempts  of  those  who 
follow  Wagner,  or  would  rival  him  in  new  paths,  but  have 
nothing  of  his  transcendent  genius.  Such  are  usually  among 
the  despisers  of  the  elementary  conditions  through  which  all 
must  pass,  and  in  which  a  majority  of  the  music-loving 
world  must  always  be.  "Trash"  of  course;  so  there  are 
offensive  plants  and  flowers  and  disagreeable  scenes,  but  the 
proportion  is  small,  and  I  contend  that  most  of  the  simple 
music  that  lives  is  no  more  trash  than  Mozart's  "  O  dolce 
concento"  or  "Rousseau's  Dream,"  than  which  nothing  is 
written  that  is  simpler  or  more  perfect. 

In  returning  to  my  story  I  must  not  omit  to  speak  of  the 
great  musical  sensation  of  1849 — the  advent  of  Jenny  Lind. 
P.  T.  Barnum  had  engaged  her  for  a  certain  number  of  con- 
certs in  this  country  at  what  was  then  considered  an  enor- 
mous price.  With  consummate  skill  he  had  seized  upon  the 
fine  reputation  which  she  had  among  musicians  and  ex- 
tended it  among  all  the  people.  He  manufactured  and  ma- 
nipulated public  opinion  until  the  excitement  was  intense. 


56  THE    vSTORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE. 

An  angel  could  not  have  met  the  expectation  he  raised  in 
many  minds. 

There  was  then  no  hall  in  New  York  large  enough  to 
hold  the  people  that  wanted  to  see  this  wonderful  being  on 
tlie  occasion  of  her  first  concert,  so  Castle  Garden  was  pre- 
pared. I  think  it  was  arranged  to  seat  about  ten  thousand 
people.  Even  then  the  lowest  priced  seats  were  in  the 
neighborhood  of  three  dollars,  if  I  remember  rightly,  and  a 
large  sum  was  realized  by  selling  the  choice  of  seats  at  auc- 
tion. An  enterprising  hatter,  by  the  name  of  Genin,  cap- 
tured fame  and  fortune  by  paying  six  hundred  dollars  for 
first  choice. 

What  a  breathless  hush  rested  upon  the  vast  audience 
when  the  time  came  for  her  first  song,  and  what  a  burst  of 
welcome  greeted  her  swift  coming  forward.  She  was  simply 
dressed  in  white,  and  was  most  statuesque  in  her  apparent 
calmness  as  she  waited  for  the  orchestra  to  finish  the  prelude 
to  "  Casta  Diva."  It  was  daring  in  her,  under  the  circum- 
stances, to  risk  a  first  impression  on  the  long,  soft  tone  with 
which  that  aria  commences,  but  it  was  a  great  success. 
While  you  wondered  at  its  extreme  pianissimo  you  were 
distinctly  conscious  that  its  fine,  steady  intensity  penetrated 
to  the  remotest  corner  of  the  hall.  All  were  filled  with 
wonder  and  delight,  excepting  those  victims  of  the  great 
advertiser,  who  were  bound  to  be  disappointed  if  her  tones 
were  anything  like  those  of  a  human  being. 

She  had  a  long  and  very  successful  career  in  this  coun- 
try, making  a  large  fortune  for  herself  and  a  much  larger 
one  for  her  enterprising  manager.  A  small  financial  trans- 
action of  my  own,  in  connection  with  her  concerts,  comes 
freshly  to  my  mind  with  a  good  deal  of  satisfaction.  I 
thought  I  was  commissioned  to  get  a  lot  of  tickets  for  one 
of  the  schools,  but  it  proved  I  was  not,  and  the  tickets  were 
on  my  hands — about  twenty,  if  I  remember  rightly.     But  I 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  57 

"speculated"  with  them,  and  made  money  enough  by  the 
operation  to  pay  for  all  my  Jenny  Lind  concerts.  I  heard 
her  first  note  and  her  last,  both  in  Castle  Garden,  and  spent 
nearly  nine  months  abroad  between  them. 


58  THE    STORY    OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

1S50-1851,  NEW  YORK  AND  PARIS — GETTING  READY  FOR  A  TRIP 
ABROAD — THE  VOYAGE — ARRIVAL  IN  PARIS — A  FEW  WORDS 
ON  THE  STUDY  OF  A  FOREIGN  LANGUAGE — THE  SINGING 
AT  THE  MADELEINE  —  LESSONS  FROM  ALARY  AND  POTH- 
ARST — A  MUSICAL  COMPATRIOT — GOTTSCHALK — MEMORA- 
BLE  CONCERTS. 

ABOUT  this  time  I  began  to  feel  the  effects  of  my  reckless 
treatment  of  a  naturally  strong  and  healthy  constitu- 
tion. For  years  I  took  a  hasty  breakfast  before  other  people 
were  up,  in  order  to  be  with  my  blind  class,  nearly  two  miles 
off,  at  half  past  seven  in  the  morning.  Then  every  working 
hour  through  the  day  was  filled  with  other  classes  and  pri- 
vate lessons,  and  some  nights  in  the  week  with  evening 
work,  and  if  a  new  pupil  wanted  my  dinner  hour  I  gave  it 
and  snatched  a  lunch  as  I  could  get  it  in  place  of  the  regular 
meal.  This,  with  the  Sunday  work,  gradually  sapped  my 
vitality  and  brought  on  the  usual  trouble  of  overworked 
people — dyspepsia. 

I  think  it  was  early  in  November  of  1850  that  Mr.  Jacob 
Abbott  said  to  me  one  day,  "  Mr.  George,  you  should  stop 
work  for  a  while.  Go  to  Paris.  (He  made  nothing  of 
picking  up  his  satchel  and  going  across,  writing  on  his  books 
during  the  voyage,  and  while  there.)  The  trip  will  do  you 
good,  and  Paris  is  a  good  place  to  rest  and  amuse  yourself 
in,  and,  if  you  feci  like  it  when  you  get  there,  you  can  study 
the  language  and  anything  more  about  music  that  you 
wish  to  know  ;  for  the  best  teachers  of  the  world  congregate 
there."      My   wile  was  considerably  astonished  when  I  told 


THE    STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL    LIFE.  59 

her  what  Mr.  Jacob  had  said,  and  that  I  believed  I  should 
go.  However,  she  agreed  that  if  it  could  be  managed  it 
would  be  a  good  plan. 

The  first  thing  was  to  see  how  the  church  people  would 
feel  about  it,  and  how  the  organ  and  choir  could  be  attend- 
ed to  during  my  absence.  This  was  soon  ascertained  and 
settled.  One  of  the  elders  of  the  church  and  the  chairman 
of  the  music  committee  was  John  P.  Crosby,  an  older 
brother  of  the  present  Dr.  Howard  Crosby.  He  was  one 
of  the  noblest  gentlemen  I  have  ever  known,  and  one  of  the 
truest  and  dearest  friends  I  ever  had.  He  was  very  musical 
— entirely  competent  to  teach  the  choir  and  play  the  organ, 
and  in  a  day  or  two  after  I  told  him  my  plan  I  was  not  sur- 
prised when  he  said  :  "  It  is  all  arranged.  Leave  Mrs.  Root 
to  be  our  leader,  and  I'll  meet  the  choir  and  play  the  organ 
for  you  until  you  return,  and  your  salary  shall  go  on  all  the 
same."  I  ought  to  have  said  that  there  was  no  thought  of 
my  wife's  going  with  me,  partly  because  that  would  have 
been  too  great  a  strain  on  our  finances,  but  more,  perhaps, 
because  we  then  had  two  little  children,  F.  W.,  four  years 
old,  and  Charlie,  three  years  younger. 

I  engaged  Richard  Storrs  Willis  (a  brother  of  N.  P. 
Willis,  an  author  of  considerable  celebrity  in  those  days)  to 
teach  for  me  at  Rutgers  and  Spingler  Institutes,  and  Sigis- 
mund  Lasar  to  carry  on  the  work  at  the  Institution  for  the 
Blind  during  my  absence.  Much  of  my  -work  would  natur- 
ally have  fallen  to  my  brother,  but  he  had  a  little  while 
before  accepted  an  offer  to  teach  for  the  winter  in  Alabama. 
I  took  my  passage  for  the  fifth  of  December,  1850,  on  the 
Franklin,  a  new  steamer  of  a  new  line  just  established 
between  New  York  and  Havre,  and  then  went  to  Boston 
and  to  the  old  home  to  say  good-bye.  A  few  days  before 
sailing  I  decided  to  get  my  life  insured.  I  mention  it  be- 
cause it  was  one  of  the  early  risks  of  the  "  N.  Y.  Mutual 


60  THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

Life,"  now  the  largest  institution  of  the  kind  in  the  world. 
When  I  see  their  present  magnificent  building  I  contrast 
it  mentally  with  the  little  office  in  Wall  street  where  I  ar- 
ranged to  have  a  certain  moderate  sum  paid  to  my  wife  in 
case  of  my  death.  Although  not  a  large  amount  it  has  im- 
proved considerably  since  that  day,  more  than  forty  years 
ago. 

The  "  Splendid  Steamer  Franklin"  was  a  small  affair  in 
comparison  with  the  present  ocean  liners,  but,  notwithstand- 
ing she  bowed  and  rolled  as  gracefully  as  she  could  at  every 
wave  of  that  wintry  sea,  and  made  nearly  all  of  us  very  sea- 
sick, she  carried  us  safely  across  and  landed  us  in  due  time 
(thirteen  days,  I  think)  at  Havre.  I  had  some  letters  which 
enabled  me  to  settle  myself  pleasantly  in  Paris  almost  im- 
mediately on  my  arrival. 

One  of  my  plans  was  to  learn  as  much  of  the  language 
as  possible  while  there,  and  I  asked  a  son  of  my  landlady — 
a  young  collegian  who  could  speak  English  a  little — if  he 
would  give  me  lessons.  He  was  timid  and  hesitated  about 
undertaking  it,  but  I  told  him  he  would  not  have  any  re- 
sponsibility; that  I  would  be  the  teacher  and  he  would  have 
only  to  obey  orders.  He  agreed,  and  I  commenced  with  the 
then  popular  "  Ollendorff ' 

I  had  seen  a  good  deal  of  the  teaching  of  French  in  the 
schools  in  New  York,  and  thought  I  saw  why  so  few  learners 
were  willing  to  try  to  speak  even  short  phrases  in  that  lan- 
guage. They  were  like  piano  pupils,  who  know  how  their 
exercises  ought  to  go,  but  can  not  make  the  proper  move- 
ments of  their  fingers  at  the  proper  time — they  have  con- 
tinually to  stop  or  stumble  for  want  of  muscular  control, 
which  simply  means  want  of  practice. 

I  saw  that  in  French  there  were  new  adjustments  of  the 
vocal  and  articulating  organs  for  certain  sounds  which  are 
not  in  our  own  language,  and  that  there  were  constantly 


THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE.  6l 

successions  of  familiar  sounds  in  an  entirely  new  way.  It 
seemed  to  me  also  that  just  as  new  and  difficult  successions 
of  finger  movements  could  only  be  rendered  smooth  and 
certain  by  much  repetition  and  practice,  so  the  new  sounds 
of  a  strange  language  could  only  be  made  to  follow  each 
other  fluently  by  the  same  means. 

So,  when  my  youthful  teacher  would  have  passed  my 
imperfect  pronunciation  and  hesitating  utterance  of  a  phrase 
because  I  had  all  the  words  right,  I  said,  "  No,  we  have  only 
begun — have  only  laid  out  the  work  for  this  phrase;  now 
you  say  it,  and  I  will  say  it  after  you,  not  only  until  it  goes 
smoothly  and  unhesitatingly,  but  has  just  the  right  vowel 
and  consonant  sounds."  I  tired  that  young  man  dreadfully, 
but  he  was  rather  proud  of  his  pupil  after  a  while.  Only 
once,  I  remember,  I  undertook  too  much.  The  phrase  was : 
"un  peu  plus  haut"  (a  little  higher),  rand  I  said:  "Now  I 
am  going  to  repeat  that  after  you  until  there  is  no  foreign 
accent  in  it  at  all,  and  you  say  you  could  not  tell  it  from  a 
Frenchman."  But  in  vain;  he  was  too  honest,  and  the 
exact  shades  of  difference  between  the  vowels  of  "peu  "  and 
"phis,"  or  some  other  subtle  peculiarity  of  utterance  always 
caused  the  same  result.  "  Is  it  like  a  Frenchman  now?" 
"  No ?t,  monsieur."  Again  and  again  I  tried.  I  asked  him 
to  show  or  tell  me  what  caused  the  difference  between  his 
utterance  and  mine.  This  he  could  not  do.  Each  word 
alone  after  him  he  seemed  to  think  right,  but  when  put 
together  it  was  to  his  ears  a  foreigner  speaking.  All  he 
could  say  was:  "JSPentendez  votes  pas  la  difference,  monsieur?" 
And  I  had  to  answer  that  I  did  not. 

On  reflection,  I  saw  that  this  might  be  so;  for  all  for- 
eigners who  learn  our  language  after  they  are  grown  up, 
although  they  may  have  the  entire  vocabulary,  and  for  prac- 
tical purposes  may  speak  as  well  as  a  native,  are  still  readily 
perceived  to  be  foreigners.     It  is  only  as  children,  when  the 


62  THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

organs  are  tender  and   can  be  moulded,  that  we  learn  to 
speak  a  foreign  language  without  accent. 

If  an  educational  word  on  this  subject  would  not  be  con- 
sidered out  of  place  here,  I  would  say  to  the  piano  teacher : 
When  your  pupil  is  not  willing  to  play  for  friends  under 
proper  circumstances,  it  is  generally  because  he  is  afraid  his 
fingers  will  not  go  right,  and  that  he  will  be  mortified  by 
hesitations  or  blunders  at  certain  places — in  short,  he  does 
not  want  to  play  because  he  has  not  practiced  enough  to  get 
that  muscular  control  which  gives  confidence.  To  the 
teacher  of  the  foreign  language  I  say  the  same  thing.  If 
your  pupil  is  not  willing  to  speak  in  the  language  you  are 
teaching  him,  it  is  in  most  cases  because  the  muscles  of  the 
articulating  organs  will  not  obey  his  will — he  has  not  prac- 
ticed his  five-finger  exercises  enough,  so  to  speak. 

People  like  to  do  what  they  can  do  well.  If  they  play 
the  piano  well,  even  though  the  pieces  be  simple,  they  like 
to  play  to  those  who  enjoy  their  music ;  if  they  speak  read- 
ily and  smoothly  in  a  foreign  language  they  like  to  exercise 
their  powers  in  that  way,  even  though  they  may  know  but 
a  few  phrases  and  may  make  many  mistakes  in  construction 
or  grammar.  If  a  piano  teacher  allows  a  new  exercise  or 
piece  before  the  previous  one  is  perfectly  learned,  or  a 
French  teacher  goes  on  to  a  second  phrase  while  there  is 
the  least  hesitation  in  the  utterance  of  the  one  at  which 
the  pupil  is  at  work,  trouble,  and,  in  the  end,  failure  and 
dissatisfaction  will  be  the  certain  result. 

I  studied  the  language  and  looked  about  the  city  for  two 
or  three  weeks  before  commencing  the  more  regular  work 
that  occupied  me  later.  The  first  thing  in  a  musical  way 
that  interested  me  very  much  was  the  singing  and  organ 
playing  at  Christinas  time  in  the  Church  of  the  Madeleine. 
A  boy  witli  a  wonderful  voice  sang  the  melody  of  the 
"Adeste  Fideles"  ("  Portuguese  Hymn,"  as  we  know  it)  at 


THK   STORY   OP   A   MUSICAL   LIFK.  63 

the  priests'  end  of  the  church,  the  choir,  which  was  also 
there,  coming  in  with  the  ending  of  each  verse,  the  organ, 
which  was  situated  with  the  singers,  giving  a  different  har- 
mony with  each  verse,  and  then  another  organ,  several 
times  larger,  four  hundred  feet  off,  over  the  front  entrance, 
rolled  out  an  interlude  between  the  verses.  It  was  a  strange 
effect  to  me  and  very  impressive. 

About  this  time  I  began  taking  voice  lessons.  I  forget 
who  it  was  in  New  York  who  told  me  to  go  to  Giulio  Alary, 
but  when  I  got  to  Paris  I  found  that  he  was  the  great  man 
in  that  line  outside  of  the  Conservatoire.  It  shows  how 
large  the  world  is,  and  how  fast  it  moves,  that  perhaps  no 
one  who  reads  this  will  ever  have  heard  of  this  man,  who 
was  so  conspicuous  as  a  composer  and  teacher  a  generation 
ago  in  Paris  and  London.  I  sang  a  good  deal  with  him 
from  an  oratorio  of  his  called  "  La  Redemption,"  and  while 
I  was  with  him  his  opera  "  Les  Trois  Marriages"  was  per- 
formed at  the  Italian  opera-house  there,  with  Sontag,  La- 
blache,  and  Gardoni  in  the  cast. 

At  the  close  of  my  lesson  one  day  he  said:  "I  am  going 
to  the  last  rehearsal  of  my  opera.  You  can  come  with  me 
and  hear  these  people  sing  if  you  like."  I  was  in  trouble, 
for  I  knew  I  could  not  make  him  conceive  how  there  could 
be  any  conscientious  scruples  against  accepting  his  invita- 
tion, but  at  that  time,  in  the  church  to  which  I  belonged,  it 
was  thought  wrong  to  go  to  opera  or  theatrical  representa- 
tions, and  I  determined  when  I  left  home  that  I  would  do 
nothing  in  Paris  that  I  would  not  do  in  New  York.  So  I 
explained  as  well  as  I  could  why  I  could  not  go.  He  did 
not  understand  it  at  all,  as  I  knew  he  could  not,  and  evi- 
dently regarded  me  as  a  kind  of  fanatic — an  opinion  in 
which  I  coincided  a  few  years  later.  I  never  felt  quite  com- 
fortable with  him  after  that  scene,  but  he  soon  had  to  go  to 
London  where  his  opera  was  next  performed,  and  I  went  to 
another  teacher. 


64  THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL    LIFE. 

Jacques  Potharst  was  some  kind  of  a  northman  by  birth, 
but  he  had  lived  in  Italy  and  France  nearly  all  his  life,  and 
had  been  a  successful  tenor  in  the  Italian  Opera.  He  was  a 
good  teacher,  and  I  took  lessons  of  him  during  the  rest  of 
my  stay  in  Paris.  One  day  he  said,  "  I  have  another  Ameri- 
can pupil,  a  baritone,  whom  you  must  meet.  I  have  some 
ducts  that  will  just  suit  your  two  voices."  That  was  soon 
brought  about.  My  compatriot  proved  to  be  a  young  man 
by  the  name  of  Mann.  He  was  the  son  of  one  of  our  gov- 
ernment officials,  who  was,  in  pursuance  of  his  diplomatic 
duties,  sometimes  in  one  European  country  and  sometimes 
in  another.  Just  then  he  was  living  in  Paris.  Young  Mann 
had  an  exceptionally  fine  baritone  voice,  and  we  sang  to- 
gether a  good  deal,  not  only  at  our  lessons,  but  in  musical 
companies,  where  Signor  Potharst  seemed  to  take  a  good 
deal  of  pride  in  parading  his  American  pupils. 

This  young  gentleman  was  a  good  illustration  of  what  I 
was  saying  about  the  way  to  speak  a  foreign  language  with- 
out accent.  His  father  began  his  diplomatic  career  when 
this  son,  his  only  child,  was  very  young — about  ten  years  of 
age  I  think.  He  went  to  school  in  every  country  where 
they  made  any  stay,  and  was  left  long  enough  in  each  one 
to  acquire  the  language.  His  French,  German  and  Italian 
were  absolutely  without  foreign  accent,  as  I  was  told  by 
those  who  knew.  I  extend  this  remembrance  of  my  friend 
because  one  of  those  curious  happenings  that  sometimes 
take  place  has  brought  him  freshly  to  my  mind.  L,ast  year 
one  of  my  neighbors  said,  "  I  have  rented  a  house  on  this 
street  for  the  summer,  to  a  gentleman  by  the  name  of  Mann, 
who  says  that  he  knows  you — that  you  were  together  in 
Paris  forty  years  ago."  I  called  on  him,  and  instead  of 
the  slender  youth  of  eighteen,  found  a  portly  gentleman 
of  fifty-eight,  now  Judge  Mann,  of  Florida,  who,  with  his 
wife,  formerly  a  Chicago  lady,  was  going  to  pass  the  sum- 


THE    STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  65 

mer  by  Lake  Michigan.     I  need  not  say  that  we  renewed 
our  acquaintance,  music  and  all,  with  much  pleasure. 

Before  leaving  New  York  a  gentleman  of  my  acquaint- 
ance said  to  me,  "  My  daughter  will  arrive  in  Paris  soon 
after  you.  The  family  with  whom  she  is  going  are  not  mu- 
sical, and  I  shall  take  it  as  a  great  favor  if  you  will  see  that 
she  has  a  good  piano  teacher  while  she  is  there.  This  I 
readily  undertook  to  do.  By  good  fortune  Gottschalk,  the 
great  pianist,  was  passing  a  few  months  in  Paris,  and  I  found 
him  willing  to  give  some  lessons  to  my  young  friend,  who 
already  played  well  for  an  amateur.  This  was  the  beginning 
of  an  acquaintance  with  that  distinguished  man,  which  con- 
tinued up  to  that  fatal  journey  to  South  America,  from  which 
he  never  returned. 

I  say  "great  pianist"  of  L-  Moreau  Gottschalk  advisedly. 
Critics  and  some  prominent  musicians  did  not  call  him  a 
great  player — all  agreed  that  he  was  an  exquisite  player, 
and  all  admitted  that  he  was  the  most  popular  and  success- 
ful concert  pianist  that  ever  played  in  America,  but  those 
who  knew  him  well  could  testify  to  his  wonderful  repertoire 
of  classic  music.  He  could  play  all  of  Beethoven  by  heart, 
and  he  delighted  in  Bach,  but  he  was  too  honest  to  play  such 
music  to  any  extent  at  his  popular  concerts,  and  too  strong 
in  the  consciousness  of  his  own  merit  to  heed  those  critics 
who,  if  they  could  have  their  way,  would  never  give  the 
people  any  music  that   they  could   understand  and  enjoy. 

It  was  particularly  exasperating  to  hear  unfavorable  crit- 
icisms of  Gottschalk's  compositions,  for  they  are  not  only 
understandable  and  useful  to  the  people,  but  elegant  and 
musicianly  in  a  high  degree.  I  think  it  may  be  said  that 
his  are  among  the  most  original  and  characteristic  of  all 
American  compositions  for  the  piano-forte. 

My  daily  life  was  now  pretty  regular.  Ollendorf,  voice 
and  piano  practice,  lessons  and  recitations  until  afternoon; 


66  THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

then  the  picture  galleries,  museums,  libraries,  palaces,  cathe- 
drals, parks,  gardens,  and  endless  objects  of  interest  until 
five  or  six  o'clock.  Then  dinner,  and  afterward  gathering 
in  the  parlor  for  conversation  or  music.  One  evening  a 
week  at  the  Protestant  Chapel,  where  I  always  went  on 
Sunday,  and  occasionally  a  concert,  occupied  my  time. 

Two  concerts  I  remember  with  special  interest:  One 
was  at  a  small  hall  connected  with  Henri  Herz's  piano 
establishment,  at  which  Madame  Sontag,  Madame  Viardot 
Garcia,  Lablache,  and  Gardoni,  a  young  tenor  of  great  prom- 
ise, sang.  I  do  not  know  that  these  names  will  excite  the 
interest  now  that  they  did  then,  and  for  some  years  after, 
over  the  entire  musical  world.  Sontag  was  the  soprano  of 
her  time.  Viardot  Garcia  was  not  only  a  great  mezzo-so- 
prano and  accomplished  pianist,  but  being  the  sister  of 
Malibran,  one  of  the  greatest  singers  that  ever  lived,  and 
then  recently  deceased,  excited  great  interest  wherever  she 
appeared.  But  Lablache  was  the  king.  He  had  been  the 
greatest  basso  of  the  world  for  a  quarter  of  a  century  or 
more.  He  was  a  giant  in  size,  his  magnificent  head  crowned 
with  a  thick  mass  of  white  hair,  towering  far  above  his 
companions  as  they  stood  together  upon  the  stage.  It  had 
been  my  greatest  desire  for  years  to  hear  this  man,  wrhose 
fame  was  greater  then  than  that  which  any  singer  enjoys 
now,  that  I  know  of.  His  voice  was  proportionate  to  his 
size,  and  had  the  advantage  of  being  trumpet-toned  like  a 
tenor,  or  rolling  out  like  the  sub-base  of  an  organ,  at  his 
pleasure.  It  was  said  that  at  C-sharp  or  D  above,  no  orches- 
tra, however  large,  could  be  more  than  a  fair  accompaniment 
when  lie  chose  to  put  forth  all  his  power,  and  I  could  readily 
believe  it.  I  heard  his  D-flat  below,  in  a  concerted  number 
in  which  all  joined,  and  the  ponderous  solidity  of  the  long- 
snstained  tone  could  only  be  compared  to  a  grand  sub-base, 
though  it  was  much  richer  in  quality  than  any  instrument 
could  produce. 


THK   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  67 

Madame  Viardot  played  a  difficult  waltz  by  Chopin,  to 
which  had  been  added,  in  a  most  musicianly  manner,  a  mel- 
ody which  she  sang.  It  was  a  curious  and  wonderful  per- 
formance. Madame  Sontag  and  Lablache  sang  a  humorous 
duet — an  Italian  singing  master  giving  his  favorite  pupil  a 
lesson.  He  was  so  large  and  she  so  petite  by  comparison, 
that  when  he  nodded  his  great  bushy  head  in  admiring  ap-  A 
proval  of  her  brilliant  execution  he  brought  to  mind  the 
old  story  of  the  lion  who  found  a  congenial  companion  in  a 
canary  bird. 

I  came  near  meeting  this  great  man  once,  but,  much  to 
my  regret,  did  not  quite  succeed.  It  was  while  I  was  taking 
lessons  from  M.  Alary.  He  was  one  day  looking  for  a  song 
that  he  wished  me  to  practice,  when  at  last  he  said,  "  now  I 
remember;  Lablache  has  it;  I  will  send  for  it."  I  asked 
him  to  let  me  call  for  it  on  my  way  home,  and  he  readily 
consented.  He  gave  me  a  note  which  described  what  was 
wanted,  and  I  took  it  to  the  great  basso's  apartments,  but 
he  was  at  dinner.  I  heard  his  ponderous  voice  and  jovial 
laugh  in  the  next  room,  but  did  not  see  him ;  his  daughter 
brought  me  the  book. 

The  second  concert  to  which  I  referred  was  in  the  Italian 
Opera-house.  It  was  Rossini's  "  Stabat  Mater,"  and  was  the 
only  occasion  while  I  was  in  Paris  that  I  entered  an  opera- 
house  or  theater.  Sims  Reeves  came  over  from  London 
to  sing  the  tenor  solos.  Down  deep  in  the  French  heart 
there  is  a  national  animosity  to  English  people,  but  they 
could  not  resist  the  charm  of  that  performance.  At  the 
"  Cujus  animam  "  they  were  wild  with  delight,  and  recalled 
the  great  tenor  again  and  again. 

The  first  English  tenor  of  this  generation  is  Edward 
Lloyd.  In  the  last  generation  Sims  Reeves  was  the  ac- 
knowledged best,  and  in  the  generation  before,  Braham. 
When,  therefore,  at  a  recent  Musical  Festival  in  Cincinnati 


68  TH£  story  of  a  musical  UF£. 

(May,  1888),  I  heard  Lloyd,  I  had  heard  the  three  great 
tenors  of  the  three  generations,  and  what  greatly  increased 
the  interest  of  this  fact  was,  that  I  heard  Braham  sing  Han- 
del's "  Sound  an  alarm,"  Sims  Reeves  the  "  Cujus  animam," 
and  Edward  Lloyd  both  of  those  songs. 

Two  other  concerts  I  now  remember  that  are  perhaps 
worth  mentioning.  At  one  was  a  new  composition  by  Feli- 
cien  David,  conducted  by  himself.  I  forget  what  it  was,  but 
at  that  time  he  was  very  famous  as  the  composer  of  "  The 
Desert,"  a  kind  of  cantata,  founded  largely  upon  Arabian 
melodies.  The  new  piece  was  good,  but  not  striking,  and 
verified  what  Auber  was  reported  as  having  said:  "When 
David  descends  from  his  camel  you  will  find  he  is  not  at  all 
remarkable."  But  what  was  more  especially  in  my  mind 
when  I  began  to  speak  of  that  concert  was  the  performance 
on  that  occasion  of  the  "  Hallelujah  chorus."  It  was  so  fast 
as  to  be  ridiculous.  Colossus  had  lost  all  his  dignity  and 
strength  by  crossing  the  channel. 

The  other  concert  that  I  think  of  with  special  interest 
was  an  orchestral  performance  of  new  compositions  by 
Hector  Berlioz,  conducted  by  himself.  That  pale,  wild  face, 
surmounted  by  shaggy  locks,  black  as  night,  haunted  me  for 
months.  He  was  a  disappointed  man.  His  works,  now 
taking  so  high  a  rank,  did  not  find  much  recognition  in 
his  life-time. 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  69 


CHAPTER   VII. 

1 85 1,  PARIS  AND  LONDON — FOURTH  OF  JULY — THE  CONVERSA- 
TIONAL MODE  OF  LEARNING  FRENCH,  AND  THE  ROMANCE 
THAT  FOLLOWED — TWO  CONCERTS  AT  EXETER  HALL,  LON- 
DON— THE  LOYALTY  OF  THE  ENGLISH  TO  OLD  FAVORITES 
— THE  FIRST  WORLD'S  EXPOSITION — AMERICAN  FRIENDS — 
THE  M'CORMICK  REAPER — THE  SEWING  MACHINE — THE 
DAY  &  NEWELL  LOCK — THE  YACHT  AMERICA — THE  NAR- 
ROW  ESCAPE   ON   THE   HOME   VOYAGE. 

MY  stay  in  Paris  was  just  before  the  famous  coup  d'etat 
of  IyOuis  Napoleon.  He  was  then  simply  President, 
but  there  was  a  half-concealed  anxiety  in  the  community 
lest  they  might  be  on  the  eve  of  some  outbreak  or  calamity, 
as  indeed  they  were. 

When  the  fourth  of  July  came,  six  of  us  Americans 
decided  to  make  a  day  of  it  in  honor  of  the  fatherland.  We 
went  out  to  Knghien,  a  pretty  suburb  a  few  miles  from 
Paris,  and  celebrated  in  various  ways,  much  to  our  enjoy- 
ment and  somewhat  to  the  surprise  of  the  natives.  We 
came  home  for  dinner  at  five  o'clock,  and  then  adjourned  to 
the  parlor  for  a  grand  wind-up.  We  made  speeches  and 
sang  songs — the  "  Star-Spangled  Banner,"  ' 'America,"  and 
whatever  else  we  could  think  of  that  would  be  appropriate. 
At  last  I  started  "  The  Marseillaise  " — "  Ye  sons  of  freedom, 
wake  to  glory,"  etc.  I  had  not  proceeded  far  when  good 
Madame  Maffit,  our  landlady,  came  rushing  in.  "  O,  gentle- 
men, stop,  I  beg  of  you,"  she  said;  "a  crowd  is  collecting 
in  the  street — the  gendarmes  will  come — my  house  will  be 
ruined;"    and  she  flew   to  the  windows,  which  had  been 


70  THE    STORY    OF    A    MUSICAL    LIFE. 

open,  and  shut  them  violently.  "Oh,  we  are  only  celebrat- 
ing our  American  Independence,"  one  of  us  said.  "Well, 
we  are  not  independent  enough  yet  to  sing  '  The  Marseil- 
laise,' "  she  answered. 

That  song  had  been  interdicted  some  time  before,  and 
although  France  was  then  nominally  a  Republic,  the  Gov- 
ernment was  still  afraid  of  its  effect  upon  that  inflammable 
people.  An  old  officer,  who  had  served  under  the  first 
Napoleon,  and  had  been  decorated  by  the  great  Emperor 
himself,  was  one  of  Madame  Mafnt's  boarders.  He  went 
down  to  the  street,  and  in  some  way  induced  the  crowd  to 
disperse.  Our  landlady  assured  us  that  if  we  had  continued 
five  minutes  longer  we  might  have  had  to  make  our  expla- 
nations at  the  Prefecture — an  ending  to  our  celebration  that 
we  certainly  should  not  have  enjoyed. 

In  pursuance  of  my  plan  to  improve  myself  all  I  could 
in  the  French  language,  I  entered  into  conversation  with 
the  natives  whenever  I  had  an  opportunity.  The  first  Na- 
poleon's old  soldiers  were  always  to  be  found  in  the  parks 
and  gardens  on  pleasant  days.  They  had  nothing  to  do, 
and  were  always  ready  for  a  talk  as  soon  as  they  found  I 
was  an  American.  One  word  about  Le  grand  Empereur, 
whose  memory  they  worshiped,  was  enough  to  see  them  off, 
and  much  practice  their  garrulous  enthusiasm  gave  me,  both 
in  listening  to  rapid  utterances  and  in  framing  questions  to 
bring  them  out. 

But  my  most  important  opportunities  in  this  way  were 
in  the  parlor  of  our  Pension,  where  all  the  household  as- 
sembled for  a  while  after  dinner.  I  talked  a  good  deal  with 
two  sisters  from  Metz,  whose  business  it  was  to  copy  pict- 
ures in  the  Louvre  and  other  galleries,  mostly  for  the 
churches  of  the  provinces.  A  pretty  romance  came  from 
this  acquaintance,  which  is  worth  relating. 

They  were  intensely  interested  in  all  I  could  tell  them 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL    LIFE.  7 1 

of  America,  about  which  their  ignorance  was  surprising. 
Was  New  York  in  North  or  South  America  ?  was  La  Nou- 
velle  Orleans  near  New  York?  were  there  many  white 
people  ?  had  we  to  be  constantly  on  our  guard  against  the 
Indians?  etc.  They  were  greatly  interested  in  the  daguerre- 
otypes of  my  wife  and  children  (there  were  no  photographs 
then),  and  utterly  astonished  at  my  description  of  American 
social  life.  Could  it  be  possible  that  a  young  lady  could  go 
to  a  concert  or  to  the  theater  alone  with  a  young  man,  or 
receive  him  at  her  home  without  the  presence  of  a  third  per- 
son? Did  they  decide  upon  and  arrange  their  marriages 
themselves?  It  seemed  incredible.  They  did  not  see  why 
good  girls  might  not  do  all  that,  but  it  would  not  be  thought 
of  in  France.  In  fact,  nice  girls  in  France  could  not  marry 
at  all  unless  they  had  a  "portion"  (dot).  Men  they  would 
marry  would  not  have  them,  and  men  that  would  marry 
them  they  would  not  have.  I  expatiated  upon  the  self- 
reliance  of  our  girls — how  young  people  married  when  they 
fell  in  love,  and  of  their  happy  married  lives.  I  grew  elo- 
quent in  very  ungrammatical  French  on  the  advantages  of 
our  ways,  and  volunteered  a  good  deal  of  information  as  to 
probable  results  if  they  were  in  America  instead  of  in 
France.  I  would  think  of  something  to  say  that  I  thought 
would  interest  them,  and  then  see  if  I  could  say  it,  not  re- 
alizing the  full  signification  that  it  might  bear  to  their 
minds.  In  fact,  it  did  not  seem  as  if  the  kind  of  French  I 
was  speaking  could  mean  much  of  anything,  but  I  should 
have  been  considerably  astonished  if  I  could  have  known 
then  how  I  was  making  America,  and  especially  New  York, 
appear  to  them  the  veritable  land  of  promise.  This  feeling 
grew  stronger  as  we  became  better  acquainted. 

I  sometimes  saw  them  at  their  copying  in  the  Louvre, 
but,  mindful  of  the  proprieties  as  there  regarded,  never  ac- 
costed  them   while  they  were  at  their  work.     I  was  not 


72  THE   STORY   OF  A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

much  of  a  judge  of  painting,  but  what  they  did  seemed  to 
me  good.  Adele,  the  older  sister,  was  exceptionally  fine 
looking,  the  younger  something  of  an  invalid,  and  the  good 
heart  of  the  former  was  constantly  shown  in  her  tender  care 
of  her  less  favored  sister.  I  admired  Adele  greatly,  and  if  I 
thought  of  some  sentence  like  "I  think  you  would  do  well 
in  your  profession  in  New  York,"  or,  tl  You  would  not  be 
long  in  America  without  marrying,"  I  would  say  it  as  best  I 
could,  thinking  mainly  of  its  construction  and  very  little  of 
its  meaning  ;  and  this  was  not  insincerity — what  I  said  was 
true  enough,  but  I  should  have  made  some  further  modifica- 
tion of  my  sentences  if  I  could  have  foreseen  what  they 
would  lead  to. 

To  finish  this  little  story  I  shall  have  to  transfer  the 
scene  to  New  York,  then  I  will  return  and  finish  the  account 
of  my  Paris  visit.  I  had  not  been  long  at  home  when  the 
coup  d'etat  took  place.  A  few  weeks  after  that  I  received  a 
letter  from  Adele,  saying  that  they  had  lost  nearly  all  their 
little  property,  and  that  there  was  then  nothing  for  them  to 
do  in  France — that  their  only  hope  now  was  America, 
which,  from  my  representation,  was  exactly  the  place  for 
them  to  go  to.  She  said  she  should  go  first  alone,  and  when 
she  had  established  herself,  her  sister  would  join  her.  She 
wrote  to  me  because  I  was  the  only  person  in  America  that 
she  knew — would  write  again  when  she  had  decided  what 
ship  to  go  in,  and  then  would  tell  me  when  I  might  expect 
her.  There  was  a  situation  !  I  had  told  her  I  thought  she 
would  do  well  in  New  York,  but  I  could  not  know.  How 
I  despised  then  that  conversational  mode  of  learning  French. 
I  wrote  her  at  once  that  perhaps  I  had  been  extravagant  in 
my  praises  of  my  native  land — that  I  did  not  know  enough 
about  painting  to  be  sure  of  her  success — that  in  our  con- 
versations the  wisli  had  been  the  father  of  the  thought,  etc., 
etc.     But  she  never  received  that  letter.     Before  it  reached 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  73 

the  other  side  she  had  started.  She  had  written  me  again 
about  when  to  expect  her.  Then  I  set  about  making  in- 
quiries and  preparations.  On  all  sides  they  said,  "  If  she  is 
a  good  artist  she  will  succeed  ;  it  all  depends  on  that.  She 
can  be  profitably  employed  either  in  teaching  or  in  painting 
pictures,  if  she  is  really  competent.' '  As  I  did  not  know 
wThether  she  answered  that  description  or  not  I  was  natur- 
ally anxious,  but  the  next  thing  wTas  to  get  a  pleasant  home 
for  her.  We  were  still  at  the  boarding-house  where  my 
family  had  stayed  during  my  absence.  It  was,  however, 
full,  much  to  our  regret,  for  my  wife  was  now  deeply  inter- 
ested in  the  success  of  my  new  protegee.  However,  I  found 
a  very  pleasant  place  for  her  near  by,  and  not  knowing  what 
condition  her  finances  would  be  in  at  first,  assumed  all 
necessary  responsibility. 

In  due  time  I  received  a  note  from  a  little  French  hotel 
in  Murray  street:  "I  have  arrived;  please  come  for  me." 
I  went  at  once,  and  found  her  none  the  wTorse  for  her  voy- 
age. I  took  her  first  to  see  my  wife.  The  two  had  heard 
much  of  each  other,  but  as  one  could  speak  no  English  and 
the  other  no  French,  their  meeting  was  exceedingly  amus- 
ing. They  smiled  sweetly  on  each  other,  and  said  all  sorts 
of  pleasant  and  complimentary  things,  which  I  interpreted 
to  the  best  of  my  ability.  I  believe  my  wife  did  manage  to 
say  "  thank  you  "  in  French  for  some  gloves  that  Mademoi- 
selle had  brought  her.  Then  we  all  went  to  the  boarding- 
place  that  had  been  arranged  for  her.  She  was  much  pleased 
with  it,  and  the  landlady  was  evidently  much  prepossessed 
in  favor  of  her  new  lodger.  Next  we  went  to  the  Spingler 
Institute,  where  I  introduced  her  to  the  French  teacher,  who 
was  a  French  lady,  and  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Abbott.  In  a  day 
or  two  she  was  introduced  to  the  wife  of  one  of  the  most 
distinguished  physicians  of  New  York,  a  Swiss  lady  from 
one  of  the  French-speaking  cantons,  and  by  her  to  some 


74  THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

other  important  people  of  the  city.  Everybody  was  de- 
lighted with  her  grace  and  beauty,  and  she  was  a  good  artist. 
Some  pictures  that  she  brought  with  her  were  exhibited  in 
Williams  &  Stevens'  window  (they  were  the  great  picture- 
sellers  of  New  York  then),  and  were  much  admired.  She 
began  by  teaching  and  painting  some  portraits,  and  in  a 
very  short  time  was  fully  occupied.  It  proved  that  she 
brought  some  money  with  her,  but  she  would  not  have 
needed  any  assistance  if  she  had  not,  for  she  was  soon  in 
receipt  of  a  much  larger  income  than  she  had  ever  enjoyed 
in  France.  She  sent  for  her  sister  in  a  few  weeks,  but  the 
younger  lady,  who  was  still  in  delicate  health,  found  our 
climate  so  uncongenial  that  she  soon  returned  to  France. 

And  now  for  the  denouement.  The  second  year  after 
Miss  Adele's  arrival  a  rich  Fifth  avenue  family,  with  whom 
she  was  a  great  favorite,  invited  her  to  spend  the  summer 
with  them  at  the  White  Mountains.  There  a  wealthy  gen- 
tleman from  Cuba  fell  in  love  with  her,  and  in  the  autumn 
they  were  married.  A  year  afterward  I  received  a  letter 
from  her,  filled  with  praises  of  her  beautiful  boy,  and  calling 
down  blessings  upon  my  head  as  the  cause,  to  some  extent, 
of  her  happiness.  So  the  conversational  mode  of  improving 
in  French  did  not  turn  out  so  badly  after  all.  At  all  events, 
it  was  permitted  that  the  promises  I  made  in  so  careless  and 
unthinking  a  fashion  should  all  be  fulfilled. 

And  now  to  return  to  Paris.  After  the  first  of  May, 
1 85 1,  the  Americans  that  came  from  Iyondon  were  in  a  state 
of  great  mortification  and  disgust  at  the  United  States  ex- 
hibit in  the  great  Crystal  Palace  Exposition — the  first  affair 
of  the  kind  in  which  all  nations  united.  They  said  that  the 
United  States  Commissioners  had  insisted  upon  a  large 
space,  and  that  it  was  not  half  filled,  and  that  the  chief 
things  there  were  some  plows,  and  a  barrel  of  shoe-pegs. 
That  was  extravagant,  of  course,  but  the  American  depart- 


THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE.  75 

ment  did  look  plain  and  uninviting  in  comparison  with  the 
elegant  profusion  of  things  from  the  older  and  nearer  na- 
tions ;  but  more  of  that  later. 

Soon  after  the  fourth  of  July  one  of  my  American  friends 
and  I  started  for  London  en  route  for  home.  This  gentle- 
man was  Levi  P.  Homer,  a  young  Bostonian,  who  had  been 
studying  music  abroad  for  a  year  or  two,  and  had  been  with 
us  at  Madame  Maffit's  for  a  few  weeks.  He  was  afterward 
Professor  of  Music  in  Harvard  College,  and  was,  I  think, 
the  immediate  predecessor  of  the  present  occupant  of  that 
office.  He  died  many  years  ago.  We  left  Paris  on  a  Friday 
morning,  and  arrived  in  London  that  afternoon.  The  first 
thing  that  attracted  my  attention  there  was  an  announce- 
ment of  the  "  Messiah  "  at  Exeter  Hall.  It  was  to  be  given 
that  evening.  My  friend  was  too  much  shaken  up  by  that 
abomination  of  all  travelers — the  passage  across  the  channel 
— to  go,  and  I  was  scarcely  better,  but  I  could  not  miss  that 
opportunity.  It  was  a  magnificent  performance — six  hun- 
dred in  the  chorus,  a  large  orchestra  and  organ,  Clara  No- 
vello,  Miss  Dolby,  Sims  Reeves  and  Carl  Formes  (at  his 
best)  taking  the  solos,  and  all  under  the  direction  of  Sir 
Michael  Costa.  The  oratorio  was  not  "  cut,"  and  took  four 
hours  in  performance.  The  alto  was  sung  mostly  by  men, 
and  one  reason  of  the  great  perfection  of  the  chorus  work 
was  that  a  large  proportion  of  the  singers  on  all  the  parts 
knew  the  music  by  heart,  and  could  keep  their  eyes  upon 
the  conductor. 

An  incident  illustrating  the  loyality  of  the  English  peo- 
ple to  their  old  favorites  comes  freshly  to  my  mind  in  con- 
nection  with  that  concert.  I  was  early,  and  found  myself 
seated  by  a  stout,  plainly  dressed  man,  who,  with  myself,  was 
evidently  much  interested  in  seeing  the  audience  gather. 
After  a  while  the  members  of  the  orchestra  began  to  take 
their  places,  and  when  an  old  man  with  a  violoncello  en- 


76  THE    STORY    OF    A    MUSICAL    LIFE, 

tered,  the  audience  applauded,  my  neighbor  joining  heartily. 
The  old  man  bowed  and  quietly  took  his  seat.  I  said  : 
•What  is  that  applause  for?"  "Oh,  that's  Mr.  Lindley," 
responded  my  neighbor,  with  a  strong  Yorkshire  accent; 
"  he  used  to  be  a  great  solo  player,  and  we  always  give  him 
a  hand  in  remembrance  of  old  times."  I  remembered  then 
to  have  heard  that  name  as  the  famous  'cellist  of  the  previ- 
ous generation.  This  led  to  further  conversation  with  the 
good-natured  Yorkshireman,  who  was  much  interested  to 
learn  that  I  was  an  American.  He  introduced  a  young  lady 
who  was  sitting  by  his  side  by  saying:  "  My  daughter  and  I 
always  come  up  to  London  when  they  sing  the  '  Messiah.'  " 
A  week  from  that  night  the  same  company  precisely  gave 
"  Elijah."  The  value  of  those  two  performances  to  me  in 
after  years  was  very  great.  They  were  authentic  and  au- 
thoritative, both  for  tempos  and  style.  Of  the  "Messiah" 
the  tradition  was  in  a  direct  line  from  its  great  author,  and 
"  Elijah"  had  been  conducted  by  Mendelssohn  himself  but  a 
few  years  before  in  Birmingham. 

The  day  after  we  arrived  in  London  we  went  to  the 
Crystal  Palace,  the  same  magnificent  building  that  is  now  in 
Sydenham.  It  was  then  in  Hyde  Park.  As  we  approached 
we  noticed  an  odd-looking  machine  on  one  side  of  the  en- 
trance, evidently  not  thought  worthy  a  place  inside.  The 
papers  made  a  good  deal  of  fun  of  it,  as  they  had  of  several 
oilier  "Yankee  notions,"  not  realizing  what  a  commotion 
that  weather-beaten  apparatus  would  make  when  the  time 
lor  test  and  trial  came.     It  was  a  McCormick  Reaper. 

When  I  entered  the  United  States  Department  I  went 
up  to  a  short,  thick-set  man,  with  a  most  jovial  and  con- 
tented expression  of  countenance,  who  was  sitting  on  a  high 
box,  swinging  his  feet  in  true  Yankee  fashion.  "  Why, 
Hobbs,  what  are  you  doing  here?"  was  my  first  greeting. 
I  had  not  seen  him  since  the  old  Musical  Education  Society 


THE)   STORY   OF  A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  77 

days  in  Boston,  where  he  was  one  of  my  cronies  on  the  base. 
He  was  a  machinist  by  trade,  and  I  knew  him  then  as  a 
bright,  pushing  fellow.  "  Oh,  I'm  representing  the  Day  & 
Newell  lock."  "  Well,  how  are  you  getting  along?"  "First- 
rate  ;  look  in  the  papers  to-morrow  and  you'll  see."  I  told 
him  I  had  but  just  come,  and  did  not  know  what  was  going 
on.  Would  he  tell  me  all  about  it?  "Well,  the  Bramah 
lock  has  been  the  great  lock  of  England  for  a  long  time.  It 
is  on  the  vaults  and  safes  of  the  Bank  of  England,  and  is 
used  everywhere  here  as  the  best.  There  has  been  a  safe  in 
the  window  of  its  sales-room  for  years  with  this  legend  upon 
it :  '  There  are  twenty  pounds  within  this  safe  which  will  be 
given  to  any  one  who  can  pick  this  lock.'  "  "And  are  you 
going  to  do  it?"  "Yes;  I  have  been  to  see  it  to-day,  and 
have  told  them  that  I  should  open  it  to-morrow."  "And  are 
you  sure  you  can  do  it?"  "Yes;  I  don't  like  the  idea  of 
picking  a  lock,  but  that  is  the  best  way  to  introduce  mine, 
and,  besides,  that  twenty  pounds  will  come  in  handy."  And 
he  did  it.  It  took  him  just  as  many  minutes  as  there  were 
pounds  that  went  into  his  pocket,  and  it  made  a  great  sale 
for  his  lock.  I  think  it  was  subsequently  used  in  the  bank 
and  other  public  places. 

The  first  sewing  machine  was  there  in  charge  of  two 
brothers  who  had  been  members  of  Park  Street  choir.  A 
Philadelphia  chairmaker  had  a  new  reclining  chair  that 
could  be  adjusted  in  many  ways.  Prince  Albert,  who  was 
the  projector  of  the  great  enterprise,  and  Queen  Victoria, 
used  often  to  go  in  and  look  about  ear^  in  the  day,  before 
the  public  was  admitted.  The  Prince  was  especially  inter- 
ested in  everything  that  saved  labor,  or  that  made  in  any 
way  for  the  welfare  of  the  people.  One  day  this  Phila- 
delphian,  who,  by  the  way,  was  originally  from  Vermont, 
was  in  great  spirits.  He  said :  "I've  had  the  Queen  in  that 
chair  this  mornin'.     I  put  her  into  all  the  positions  I  could 


78  THE    STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL    LIFE. 

think  of,  and  the  Prince  he  laughed  well,  and  now  I'm  goin' 
to  put  a  sign  up :  '  The  Queen  has  set  in  that  chair,  and  any- 
body else  who  wants  to  set  in  it  has  got  to  pay  a  shillinV  " 
We  left  our  enterprising  countryman  anticipating  great  re- 
sults from  his  scheme. 

Of  the  general  and  costly  magnificence  of  the  Exposition 
it  is  not  worth  while  to  speak,  for  the  world  is  familiar  with 
such  things  now.  One  thing,  however,  that  was  there  has 
not  been  seen  in  any  other  country,  and  that  was  the  "  Kohi- 
noor,"  the  enormous  diamond  belonging  to  the  British  crown 
jewels.  In  this  case  it  was  the  real  article,  and  not  the  paste 
substitute  which  has  sometimes  been  shown.  It  was  in  an 
octagonal  glass  and  iron  case,  on  an  iron  pedestal,  and  was 
surrounded  by  a  strong  railing  that  prevented  people  from 
getting  within  two  or  three  feet  of  it,  and  to  further  protect 
it  was  guarded  day  and  night  by  four  soldiers. 

When  the  time  came  for  examining  the  exhibits  and 
awarding  the  prizes  a  great  change  took  place  in  the  public 
mind  in  regard  to  the  American  Department.  The  rusty, 
weather-beaten  machine,  that  had  been  the  butt  of  so  many 
jokes  at  the  expense  of  the  Yankees,  was  taken  out  onto  a 
smooth  English  grain  field  and  set  going.  The  effect  was 
magical.  Could  this  be  the  ungainly  thing  they  had  laughed 
at  ?  Such  reaping  had  not  been  dreamed  of.  The  English- 
man loves  fair  play,  and  we  got  full  credit  for  that,  and  many 
other  things  that  had  not  seemed  to  be  of  much  account 
until  they  were  put  to  use.  To  crown  all,  about  the  same 
time  the  new  yacht  "America"  beat  the  English  yacht 
squadron  in  a  race  off  the  Isle  of  Wight.  The  Americans 
held  ii])  their  heads  after  that,  and  were  a  little  ashamed 
that  they  had  distrusted  the  ability  of  Uncle  Sam  to  hold 
his  own  in  this  contest  of  nations. 

We  stayed  in  London  about  four  weeks,  and  then  went 
to  Southampton,  where  the   Havre  steamers  touched,  and 


THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE.  79 

took  the  Humboldt  for  home.     It  was  a  remarkably  smooth 
voyage,  though  one  incident  as  we  neared  our  coast  I  shall 
never  forget.    I  was  a  little  seasick  all  the  way — just  enough 
to   be   nervous    and    apprehensive,  especially  after  hearing 
stories  of  running   into    icebergs  or   fishing  craft,  and  the 
marvelous  things  about  the  density  of  the  fog  banks  off 
Newfoundland.    But  one  night  I  went  to  bed  quite  peaceful, 
for  the  moon  was  bright  and  the  air  clear,  and  the  ocean 
almost  as  calm  as  a  mill-pond.     About  midnight,  however, 
I  was  awakened   by  sudden   orders  and  hurried  footsteps 
overhead,  and  felt  immediately  that  the  ship's  side  had  hit 
against  something,  for  she  heeled  over  in  a  most  perceptible 
and  alarming  way.     I  sprang  out  of  my  berth  and  called 
to  Mr.  Homer,  who  occupied  the  upper  one,  that  the  ship 
had  struck  something.     I  thought  of  fishing  smacks  and 
icebergs,  and  was  in  a  state  of  great  nervous  excitement 
while  trying  to  get  into  my  clothes.    I  feared  every  moment 
that  something  worse  would  happen.     My  friend  started  to 
get  out  of  his  berth,  but,  being  but  half  awake,  lost  his  bal- 
ance and  came  down  on  my  back  as  I  was  stooping  over  to 
put  on  my  shoes.     I  thought  the  ship  had  gone  to  the  bot- 
tom.     I  believe  I  was  never  so  frightened  before,  or  have 
ever  been  since.     As  soon  as  I  recovered  I  rushed  upon 
deck,  and   found  we  were  within  a  hundred   yards  of  the 
rocks  of  Cape  Race,  the  eastern  point  of  Newfoundland. 
Strange  as  it  may  seem,  the  officers  of  the  ship  had  made  a 
mistake  in  their  reckoning,  and  did  not  suppose  they  were 
within  a  hundred  miles  of  the  cape.     They  took  the  wall 
before  them  for  a  fog  bank,  and  if  every  man  had  not  been 
at  his  post  when  they  discovered  their  error,  and  had  not 
obeyed  the  sudden  orders  instantly,  we  should  have  crashed 
straight  on  to  the  rocks  and  gone  down  like  a  broken  egg- 
shell.    We  afterward  learned  that  our  captain  had  been  on 
the  Havre  packets  (sailing  vessels)  many  years,  but  that  this 


80  THE   vSTORY   OF  A   MUSICAL   LIFE- 

was  his  first  voyage  on  a  steamer.  He  said  it  was  a  reced- 
ing wave  that  made  the  ship  heel  over,  but  she  went  into 
dry-dock  when  we  arrived  in  New  York,  and  wras  there  some 
weeks,  so  we  knew  she  was  hit. 

It  was  a  hot  August  morning  when  we  landed,  and  I 
remember  thinking  that  everybody  w7e  met  on  Broadway 
looked  sick — they  were  so  pale  and  thin.  The  contrast  to 
the  ruddy  English  people  we  had  just  left  was  striking. 
New  Yorkers  and  the  American  people  generally  are  health- 
ier looking  now  than  they  w7ere  in  those  days.  The  women 
wear  thicker  shoes  and  take  more  exercise,  and  both  men 
and  women  know  better  about  eating,  drinking,  and  the 
laws  of  health  generally. 


THE    STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL    LIFE.  8 1 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

1851-1853,  NEW  YORK — "THE  FLOWER  QUEEN"  AND  THE  FIRST 
"  ROSE  " — "  WURZEL  "  AND  "  THE  HAZEL  DELL  " — MY  BEST 
PIANO  PUPIL — THE  FIRST  NORMAL  MUSICAL  INSTITUTE — 
"  DANIEL  "  AND  EARLY  BOOKS — THE  NEW  HOUSE  AT  WIL- 
LOW FARM,  AND  THE  SINGING  IN  THE  VILLAGE  CHURCH 
— MY  FIRST  MUSICAL  CONVENTION — THE  VALUE  OF  A 
SPECIALTY — THE    OLD   VIOLIN — EARLY    ORCHESTRAS. 

I  FOUND  my  family  at  the  old  home  in  North  Reading. 
We  had  a  week  or  so  more  of  vacation,  and  then  I  went 
back  to  New  York  and  resumed  my  work.  The  first  need 
I  felt  was  for  something  new  for  my  classes,  especially  at 
Rutgers  and  Spingler  Institutes,  to  sing.  This  was  in  the 
autumn  of  1851.  Mr.  Bradbury  had  given  some  floral  con- 
certs with  children  at  the  Broadway  Tabernacle,  and  at  a 
recent  one  had  introduced  some  selections  in  a  connected 
series.  This  gave  me  the  idea  that  a  little  musical  play 
might  be  made  for  girls  and  young  ladies  that  would  be  use- 
ful. I  cast  about  for  a  subject.  It  was  not  difficult  to  find 
one ;  the  whole  world  was  open  to  me,  for  nothing  of  the 
kind  had  been  done.  I  soon  decided  that  the  subject  should 
be  flowers  choosing  a  queen,  and  that  the  little  play  should 
be  called  "The  Flower  Queen." 

At  the  Institution  for  the  Blind  there  was  at  that  time  a 
lady  who  had  been  a  pupil  there,  but  was  now  a  teacher, 
who  had  a  great  gift  for  rhyming,  and,  better  still,  had  a 
delicate  and  poetic  imagination.  The  name  of  Fanny  Cros- 
by was  not  known  then  beyond  the  small  circle  of  her  per- 
sonal friends,   but  it  is  now  familiar,  especially  wherever 


82  THE   STORY   OF  A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

Gospel  songs  are  sung.  I  used  to  tell  her  one  day  in  prose 
what  I  wanted  the  flowers  or  the  Recluse  to  say,  and  the 
next  day  the  poem  would  be  ready — sometimes  two  or  three 
of  them.  I  generally  hummed  enough  of  a  melody  to  give 
her  an  idea  of  the  meter  and  rhythmic  swing  wanted,  and 
sometimes  played  to  her  the  entire  music  of  a  number  be- 
fore she  undertook  her  work.  It  was  all  the  same.  Like 
many  blind  people  her  memory  was  great,  and  she  easily 
retained  all  I  told  her.  After  receiving  her  poems,  which 
rarely  needed  any  modification,  I  thought  out  the  music, 
perhaps  while  going  from  one  lesson  to  another,  (the  dis- 
tances were  so  great  that  I  had  to  spend  a  good  deal  of  time 
every  day  in  omnibuses  or  street  cars,)  and  then  I  caught 
the  first  moment  of  freedom  to  write  it  out.  Sometimes 
this  was  a  half  hour  before  dinner  or  supper,  sometimes  a 
little  while  between  lessons,  and  sometimes  an  hour  at  night. 
This  went  on  until  the  cantata  was  finished. 

I  can  truly  say  that  I  had  no  other  thought  in  this  work 
than  my  own  needs.  I  did  not  know  that  it  would  ever  be 
heard  outside  of  the  walls  of  the  institutions  in  which  I  was 
teaching.  I  had  to  have  it  printed  because  I  needed  so 
many  copies  myself,  and  this  time  it  fell  into  good  hands. 
The  two  older  sons  of  Dr.  Mason  were  then  book-sellers  and 
publishers  in  New  York,  under  the  firm  name  of  Mason 
Brothers.  They  willingly  undertook  to  supply  me  with 
copies,  and  they  said,  "We'll  publish  it  regularly — others 
may  want  what  you  want,"  and  so  it  proved. 

I  have  often  been  glad  that  I  did  not  begin  earlier  to 
write  for  publication.  It  was  not  a  noble  motive  that  re- 
strained me,  but  our  foolishness  is  often  overruled  to  our 
advantage.  By  delaying  I  had  become  better  equipped.  I 
had  heard  a  good  deal  of  good  music,  and  had  been  obliged 
to  teach  some  of  a  high  order.  Everything  that  my  blind 
pupils  sang  I  had  to  know  in  the  most  thorough  manner. 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  83 

My  acquaintance  with  some  of  the  best  musicians  of  the  day 
was  such  as  to  bring  me  into  close  contact  with  what  they 
performed  and  liked,  and  in  my  family  we  were  familiar  with 
music  of  a  grade  considerably  above  that  of  the  popular  mu- 
sic of  the  day.  The  reservoir  was,  therefore,  much  better 
filled  than  it  would  have  been  if  I  had  commenced  when 
urged  to  do  so  by  the  friends  of  whom  I  have  spoken,  and 
the  comparatively  simple  music  that  I  have  written  from 
that  time  to  this  has  included  a  greater  variety  of  subjects, 
and  has  been  better  in  quality  in  consequence. 

I  saw  at  once  that  mine  must  be  the  "  people's  song," 
still,  I  am  ashamed  to  say,  I  shared  the  feeling  that  was 
around  me  in  regard  to  that  grade  of  music.  When  Stephen 
C.  Foster's  wonderful  melodies  (as  I  now  see  them)  began 
to  appear,  and  the  famous  Christy's  Minstrels  began  to  make 
them  known,  I  "  took  a  hand  in  "  and  wrote  a  few,  but  put 
"  G.  Friederich  Wurzel"  (the  German  for  Root)  to  them  in- 
stead of  my  own  name.  "  Hazel  Dell "  and  "  Rosalie,  the 
Prairie  Flower"  were  the  best  known  of  those  so  written. 
It  was  not  until  I  imbibed  more  of  Dr.  Mason's  spirit,  and 
went  more  among  the  people  of  the  country,  that  I  saw 
these  things  in  a  truer  light,  and  respected  myself,  and  was 
thankful  when  I  could  write  something  that  all  the  people 
would  sing. 

"  The  Flower  Queen  "  served  an  excellent  purpose,  both 
as  an  incentive  to  work  on  the  part  of  the  classes,  and  as  an 
entertainment  for  the  friends  of  the  schools.  I  served  in  the 
double  capacity  of  Recluse  and  stage  manager  in  the  first 
performances,  and  fear  the  latter  character  appeared  some- 
times during  the  performance  of  the  former  much  to  the 
detriment  of  that  dignitary.  However,  we  always  rehearsed 
thoroughly,  and  the  success  of  those  first  representations  was 
all  that  could  be  desired.  The  first  "  Rose  "  is  worth  telling 
about. 


84  THE    STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

Two  or  three  years  before,  I  noticed  one  day  a  strange 
voice  among  my  four  hundred  at  Rutgers.  It  did  not  seem 
loud,  but  it  pervaded  the  whole  room  and  was  exceedingly 
rich  in  quality.  It  seemed  so  mature  that  I  looked  among 
the  young  ladies  for  it  at  first,  but  there  was  no  stranger 
among  them.  Then  I  stepped  down  from  the  platform  and 
walked  back  among  the  younger  girls  and  soon  discovered 
her,  a  small  brunette,  twelve  or  thirteen  years  old,  with 
laughing  eyes  and  a  profusion  of  dark,  wavy  hair  hanging 
unconfined  about  a  handsome,  dark  face.  That  was  her  first 
day  at  the  school,  but  she  soon  became  our  prima  donna,  and 
the  name  of  Annie  Thomas  will  not  soon  be  forgotten  by 
those  who  heard  her  during  those  years  at  Rutgers,  and 
afterward  in  her  more  prominent  musical  life  in  New  York. 
I  used  to  take  my  pupils  occasionally  to  hear  the  blind 
people  sing.  Annie  was  a  great  favorite  there.  She  not 
only  captivated  the  class,  but  in  a  special  and  particular  way 
a  young  gentleman  who  not  only  could  hear  her  voice,  but 
see  her  face.  He  w7as  a  theological  student,  temporarily 
teaching  there.  He  had  a  younger  brother  who  was  a  part 
of  the  time  in  the  Institution,  I  think,  as  an  office  boy.  This 
theological  student  sought  an  introduction  to  my  young 
lady  and  I  introduced  him.  A  few  years  after  he  married 
her.  He  is  now  the  Rev.  Wm.  Cleveland,  of  Forestport,  N. 
Y.,  and  the  office  boy  was,  not  long  ago,  President  of  the 
United  States. 

Speaking  of  my  best  singer  in  New  York,  on  account  of 
her  connection  with  a  well-known  personage,  brings  to  my 
mind  my  best  piano  pupil,  a  lovely  young  girl  of  thirteen  or 
fourteen.  If  you  will  read  Charles  Dudley  Warner's  "My 
Summer  in  a  Garden,"  you  will  be  much  amused  at  his  allu- 
sions to  his  wife  who  was  this  young  girl.  I  hope  she  has 
not  forgotten  the  Cramer's  studies  she  played  so  well. 

With  every  Teacher's  Class  and  Convention  that  I  at- 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  85 

tended  with  Mr.  Mason  and  Mr.  Webb  I  became  more  inter- 
ested in  the  improvement  of  the  teachers  who  came  to  be 
instructed.  I  saw  how  inadequate  the  time  was  for  much 
improvement,  not  only  in  my  department  (the  voice),  but  in 
the  art  of  teaching  and  in  harmony  and  general  musical 
culture.  Early  in  1852  I  conceived  the  idea  of  having  a 
three  months'  session  for  this  work.  It  must  be  in  the  sum- 
mer, because  then  the  teachers  had  more  leisure.  It  must 
be  in  the  city  of  New  York,  for  I  must  be  there  where  my 
work  was.  I  knew  the  expenses  of  advertising  and  place 
of  meeting  would  be  large,  but  I  believed  that  from  all  the 
States  and  Canada  enough  teachers,  and  those  who  wished 
to  become  such,  would  come,  to  save  the  enterprise  from 
pecuniary  loss. 

I  went  immediately  to  Boston,  where  Mr.  Mason  still 
lived,  and  told  him  my  plan.  It  did  not  strike  him  at  first 
as  feasible.  He  did  not  believe  any  considerable  number  of 
persons  could  be  induced  to  come,  especially  from  a  distance, 
on  account  of  the  great  expense  of  traveling  and  of  such  a 
stay  in  New  York  City,  in  addition  to  the  cost  of  instruction. 
I  said,  "  Well,  I  am  going  to  have  such  a  class.  You  are  the 
proper  person  to  appear  at  the  head  of  it,  and  to  be  the  real 
head  when  it  comes  to  the  teaching,  but  I  do  not  expect  you 
to  do  any  of  the  work  of  getting  it  up ;  I'll  see  to  that.  It 
will  be  a  better  opportunity  than  you  have  ever  had  to  make 
your  ideas  of  notation,  teaching,  and  church  music  really 
known,  for  you  will  have  time  enough  thoroughly  to  indoc- 
trinate people  with  them,  and  that  you  know  you  never  have 
had  in  Teachers'  Classes  and  Conventions." 

I  knew  this  would  move  him  if  anything  would.  No 
word  of  money  or  remuneration  for  his  services  passed 
between  us,  and  I  take  this  opportunity  to  say  that  Lowell 
Mason  was  the  most  misjudged  man  in  this  respect  that  I 
ever  knew.     He  had  plenty  of  money.     It  came  in  large 


86  THE   STORY   OF  A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

sums  from  his  works,  but  I  do  not  believe  he  ever  made  a 
plan  to  make  money,  unless  when  investing  his  surplus 
funds.  In  his  musical  work  it  was  always  "  Is  this  the  best 
thing — will  it  be  received — will  it  do  the  most  good?"  It 
was  a  clear  case  in  its  sphere  of  seeking  first  what  was  right 
and  finding  that  all  other  things  were  added.  And  now  that 
I  am  about  it,  I  will  say  further  of  this  remarkable  man,  that 
although  great  in  every  way,  intellectually  and  morally  as 
well  as  musically,  he  was  like  a  child  if  any  error  could  be 
pointed  out  in  his  works  or  defect  in  his  teaching.  It  was 
not  often  that  either  thing  happened,  but  when  it  did,  it  was 
"  Is  that  so?  L,et  us  see,"  and  prompt  correction  took  place 
whenever  he  saw  he  was  wrong.  A  favorite  saying  with  him 
was,  "  Error  makes  us  weak — truth  makes  us  strong." 

As  I  am  writing  these  recollections  I  open  my  morning 
paper  and  the  following  item  catches  my  eye.  It  is  worth 
inserting  here,  but  first  I  will  explain  that  Mr.  Mason  was 
a  Massachusetts  man  by  birth,  but  lived  for  a  while  in 
Savannah,  Ga.  From  there  he  was  induced  to  return  to 
Boston,  by  some  prominent  citizens  who  knew  of  his  gifts, 
and  believed  that  he  could  inaugurate  the  musical  reform 
that  they  felt  was  needed.  "  Missionary  Hymn"  was,  I  am 
quite  sure,  his  first  publication. 

When  Bishop  Heber's  famous  missionary  hymn,  "  From  Green- 
land's Icy  Mountains,"  which  he  wrote  in  1824  when  in  Ceylon,  first 
reached  this  country,  a  lady  in  Savannah  was  much  impressed  with 
the  beauty  of  it,  and  was  particularly  anxious  to  find  a  tune  suited  to 
it.  She  ransacked  her  music  in  vain,  and  then  chancing  to  remember 
that  in  a  bank  down  the  street  was  a  young  clerk  who  had  consider- 
able reputation  as  a  musical  genius,  she  decided  to  ask  him  to  write 
a  tune  to  fit  it.  lie  readily  complied  with  her  request,  and  the  mel- 
ody thus  dashed  off  is  to-day  sung  all  over  the  world,  and  is  insepar- 
ably connected  with  the  hymn.  The  young  bank  clerk  was  Lowell 
Mason. 

Mr.  Mason  finally  agreed  to  be  at  the  head  of  the  enter- 


THE    STORY    OF   A    MUSICAL    LIFE.  87 

prise,  which  I  decided  to  call  "  The  Normal  Musical  Insti- 
tute," but  he  said  he  had  promised  to  go  to  England  for  a 
short  visit.  "  When  did  I  wish  to  commence  ?  "  "In  June," 
I  told  him — June,  July  and  August,  I  thought,  should  be  the 
months.  Well,  he  would  be  back  in  time  without  doubt. 
Then  I  went  back  to  New  York,  and  with  Mason  Brothers, 
the  publishers,  I  took  a  different  line  of  argument.  I  said  : 
"It  will  be  a  great  thing  for  the  sale  of  your  father's  books 
to  have  his  methods  and  music  better  understood  than  they 
can  be  in  the  shorter  gatherings.  (I  had  no  books  of  my 
own  then  for  such  work.)  Will  you  do  the  work  of  making 
the  right  people  know  of  this  all  over  the  country?  "  They 
said  they  would,  and  they  did.  The  responses  were  most 
encouraging,  but  a  change  took  place  in  our  plans.  A  few 
weeks  before  the  time  set  to  begin,  Mr.  Mason  wrote  that  he 
could  not  be  back  until  in  the  summer,  perhaps  not  until  the 
autumn.  He  had  found  work  to  do  in  England  that  delighted 
him,  and  that  he  felt  was  useful,  and  we  must  go  on  with  the 
Institute  without  him,  or  defer  the  opening  until  the  next 
summer.  The  brothers  said,  "  We  believe  this  is  going  to  be 
a  success,  and  if  you  will  put  it  off  we  will  not  only  pay  all 
the  expenses  incurred  thus  far,  but  all  the  expenses  of  ad- 
vertising it  for  next  year.  To  this  I  readily  agreed,  as  I  did 
not  wish  to  begin  without  the  "  master."  So  the  notice  of 
postponement,  with  explanations,  was  sent  wherever  the 
Institute  had  been  advertised,  and  to  all  who  wrote  about 
coming,  and  the  matter  rested. 

It  will  be  of  interest  to  mention  that  Mr.  Mason's  work 
in  England  had  reference  principally  to  congregational  sing- 
ing, although  he  gave  some  lessons  in  his  incomparable  way 
in  the  elementary  principles  of  music.  The  Rev.  John  Cur- 
wen,  father  of  the  present  Messrs.  Curwen,  and  founder  of 
the  tonic-sol-fa  method  of  notation,  was  present  at  many  of 
Mr.  Mason's  lectures  and  lessons,  and  was  greatly  interested 


88  THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE. 

in  both.  Tonic-sol-fa  was  in  its  infancy  then.  Mr.  Mason 
spoke  of  it  as  a  simple  notation  for  the  poor  people  of  Mr. 
Curwen's  congregation.  He  had  no  idea  that  its  use  would 
extend  much  farther  than  that.  It  is  certain  that  these  two 
men — the  one  having  exercised  a  vast  influence  for  good  on 
the  singing  of  the  people  in  America,  and  the  other  destined 
to  per  ~orm  a  similar  use  in  England — were  sincerely  attached 
to  each  other. 

In  the  summer  of  1853  the  first  Normal  Musical  Institute 
was  held.  Its  sessions  were  in  Dodworth's  Hall,  Broadway, 
New  York,  and  continued  three  months.  The  principal 
teachers  were  Lowell  Mason,  Thomas  Hastings,  Wm.  B. 
Bradbury  and  myself;  assistant  teachers,  John  Zundel, 
J.  C.  Woodman,  and  some  others,  for  private  lessons,  whose 
names  I  do  not  now  recall.  The  terms  were  $25  for  the 
normal  course  ;  $50  if  private  lessons  were  added.  There 
were  upwards  of  a  hundred  from  abroad,  and  enough  sing- 
ers from  the  city  to  make  a  good  chorus.  I  think  we  met 
but  one  evening  a  week  for  chorus  practice ;  certainly  not 
more  than  two.  Working  as  we  did  all  through  the  day  in 
the  hot  city,  we  did  not  think  it  safe  to  add  much  evening 
work.  We  gave  no  concerts.  It  was  years  before  the 
"Normal"  thought  of  deriving  any  revenue  in  that  way. 
In  fact,  it  was  not  exactly  business  to  any  of  us  (excepting 
to  those  who  gave  private  lessons).  Each  had  his  regular 
occupation  in  other  ways.  As  the  years  went  on,  modifica- 
tions in  many  things  were  made,  and  improvements  in  some 
of  the  studies  introduced,  but  the  main  objects  of  the  institu- 
tion and  the  program  of  daily  work  have  remained  in  this, 
and  have  been  adopted  in  the  other  institutes  that  have 
sprung  up  since,  essentially  as  in  that  first  memorable 
session. 

About  this  time  I  gathered  the  best  of  the  material  to- 
gether  that  we  had  been  using    in   Rutgers  and  Spingler 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  89 

Institutes,  and  with  some  new  music,  and  an  elementary 
course  taken  from  Mr.  Mason's  books,  embodied  all  in  the 
"Academy  Vocalist,"  my  first  work  of  any  pretension  for 
schools.  Through  the  energy  of  the  publishers,  and  the  fact 
that  other  teachers  and  schools  experienced  the  same  needs 
that  we  felt,  the  book  had  considerable  success.  The 
"  Flower  Queen  "  quickly  became  popular,  and  "  Hazel  Dell  " 
began  the  run  which  was  not  to  end  until  the  boys  whistled 
it  and  the  hand  organs  played  it  from  Maine  to  Georgia,  and 
no  ambition  for  a  song-writer  could  go  higher  than  that. 

These  successes  gave  me  a  new  inclination  to  write,  and 
I  decided  that  I  would  next  make  a  cantata  for  my  choir. 
At  this  time  one  of  the  students  in  the  Union  Theological 
Seminary  was  C.  M.  Cady,  who,  afterward,  with  my  brother 
E.  T.  Root,  started  the  firm  of  Root  &  Cady  in  Chicago.  I 
decided  on  "Daniel"  as  the  subject,  and  Mr.  Cady  and 
Fanny  Crosby  helped  me  in  preparing  the  words.  About 
the  time  the  cantata  was  completed  I  was  approached  with 
reference  to  making  a  church-music  book  with  Mr.  Brad- 
bury. This  I  was  very  glad  to  do,  and  "  The  Shawm  "  was 
the  result.  All  interested  thought  it  would  be  a  good  plan 
to  print  the  new  cantata  at  the  end  of  the  book — that  many 
of  its  choruses  could  be  used  as  anthems,  and  that  some  of 
its  solos  and  quartets  might  also  find  a  place  in  church  serv- 
ice. So  that  was  done ;  but  in  order  that  Mr.  Bradbury's 
name  might  rightfully  appear  as  joint  author,  I  took  out  two 
of  my  numbers  from  the  cantata,  and  he  filled  their  places. 
"The  Shawm  "  was  a  success,  but  the  cantata  was  sa  much 
called  for,  separate  from  the  book,  that  it  was  not  bound  up 
with  it  after  the  first  or  second  edition.  Its  place  was  filled 
with  set  pieces,  and  "  Daniel "  has  been  printed  as  a  book  by 
itself  ever  since. 

And  now  I  decided  to  build  a  new  house  on  the  old  place 
at  North  Reading,  not  only  better  to  accommodate  the  clan 


9<D  THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

which  assembled  there  every  summer,  but  for  the  greater 
comfort  of  the  dear  people  who  stayed  there  all  the  time. 
So  one  of  my  boy  friends,  then  a  prosperous  carpenter  in  the 
town,  came  to  New  York,  and  we  agreed  upon  a  plan  which 
on  his  return  met  the  approval  of  the  home  folks  and  was 
speedily  carried  out.  The  delight  with  which  we  went  into 
the  new  and  completed  house  at  Willow  Farm  at  our  next 
vacation  can  not  be  described.  No  palace  ever  gave  kingly 
occupants  greater  pleasure.  In  the  old  red  house  the  sway- 
ing branches  of  the  great  elm  did  not  reach  our  windows ; 
now  we  were  right  up  under  them.  There,  close  by,  at  the 
end  of  a  long,  graceful  bough,  was  where  the  oriole,  in  his 
gorgeous  red  costume,  swung  his  hammock  every  year,  and 
there  it  was,  as  we  looked,  rocking  as  of  yore  in  the  summer 
breeze. 

It  was  not  only  delightful  for  us  to  be  at  the  old  home  in 
the  summer,  but  a  great  gratification  to  give  some  extra 
pleasure  to  the  old  friends  of  the  little  town.  This  was  princi- 
pally done  by  singing  in  church  on  Sunday,  though  we  some- 
times gave  a  concert  on  a  week  evening,  to  which  everybody 
was  invited.  There  were  so  many  of  us,  and  always  some 
musical  friends  to  swell  the  number,  that  we  had  an  excel- 
lent choir — one  that  would  have  been  acceptable  anywhere. 
We  all  remember  well  a  tall,  shy  boy,  who  then  was  an  ap- 
prentice to  a  farmer  in  the  town,  who  used  to  listen  with 
wonder  and  delight  to  our  music,  and  who  has  told  me  since 
that  he  could  not  have  looked  upon  princes  with  greater 
awe  than  he  did  upon  us  in  those  days.  He  is  now  one  of 
Chicago's  millionaires.  One  of  his  " deals"  on  the  Board  of 
Trade  will  ever  be  memorable  in  the  history  of  that  institu- 
tion. vSix  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  clear  in  one 
day,  not  to  mention  the  enormous  profits  of  other  days  dur- 
ing the  operation  !  His  name  is  B.  P.  Hutchinson.  A  few 
years  ago  we  rode  up  from  Boston  one  summer  day,  to  see 


THK   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL    LIFE.  9 1 

the  old  friends.  He  enjoyed  greatly  being  where  people 
called  him  "  Ben,"  and  treated  him  as  if  he  were  no  more 
than  common  folks. 

My  life  now  went  on  very  pleasantly  in  New  York,  but 
I  began  to  be  asked  to  conduct  musical  conventions  in  the 
neighboring  states.  My  connection  with  the  Teachers'  Class- 
es, and  the  "Normal"  recently  held,  and  with  Mr.  Brad- 
bury in  "  The  Shawm,"  had  brought  me  more  before  the 
singers  of  the  country.  I  declined  at  first,  partly  because  I 
did  not  like  to  take  the  responsibility  of  the  entire  conduct 
of  one  of  those  gatherings,  and  partly  because  I  did  not  care 
to  break  into  my  regular  work.  But  finally  I  decided  to  try 
it,  and  accepted  a  call  from  Sussex  county,  New  Jersey,  and 
now  I  miss  again  my  lost  diary.  With  that  I  could  have 
told  exactly  when  and  where  I  had  my  first  convention  ex- 
perience ;  who  employed  me ;  who  the  clergymen  and  prom- 
inent musical  people  of  the  section  were ;  where  I  stayed, 
and  who  invited  me  to  dinner  or  tea ;  who  were  the  solo 
singers ;  what  books  I  used,  and  how  much  I  received.  But 
as  it  is  I  can  only  recall  a  pleasant  scene  in  a  hilly  country, 
with  a  crowd  of  happy  people,  who  took  kindly  to  my  way 
of  teaching  and  entertaining  them. 

My  first  successful  song  ("Hazel  Dell")  was  published  L% 
in  1852  by  Wm.  Hall  &  Son,  who  then  occupied  a  store  on 
the  corner  of  Broadway  and  Park  Place.  This  was  followed 
by  a  contract  with  this  house,  by  which  I  was  to  give  them 
all  my  sheet  music  publications  for  three  years.  My  broth- 
er had  returned  from  the  South,  and  becoming  tired,  as  he 
said,  of  being,  as  a  teacher,  only  "  Mr.  Root's  brother,"  de- 
cided to  learn  the  music  business,  and  was  then  a  clerk  in 
the  Hall  establishment. 

The  Messrs.  Hall  were  the  publisher's  of  Gottschalk's 
and  Wm.  Vincent  Wallace's  music  at  that  time,  and  I  fre- 
quently met  those  gentlemen  there.     Wallace,  who  may  be 


92  THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE. 

remembered  a^  che  author  of  "  Maritana,"  an  opera  quite 
popular  at  one  time,  and  still  somewhat  sung,  and  of  many 
fine  songs  and  pianoforte  compositions,  was  a  distinguished 
pianist  and  a  fine  violinist.  As  a  concert  player  upon  either 
instrument  he  would  have  been  a  success,  but  undertaking 
to  give  concerts  upon  both,  he  failed.  It  is  a  curious  fact 
that  the  public  will  not  give  a  musician  a  high  place  in  its 
esteem  if  he  makes  himself  prominent  in  two  or  more  spe- 
cialties, however  excellent  he  may  be  in  them. 

I  remember  once  seeing  a  great  conductor  step  down 
from  his  platform  and  play  a  solo  upon  the  violin.  It  was 
done,  of  course,  extremely  well,  but  everybody  felt  that  he 
had  "stepped  down"  in  more  senses  than  one.  Carl  Zer- 
rahn,  the  able  and  popular  conductor  of  the  Handel  and 
Haydn  Society  of  Boston,  and  of  the  Worcester  and  other 
Festivals,  came  over  to  this  country  with  the  Germania 
orchestra  as  a  solo  flute  player,  but  I  dare  say  that  not  a 
dozen  people  of  the  tens  of  thousands  who  have  placed  him, 
in  their  estimation,  upon  the  highest  round  of  the  ladder  in 
his  specialty,  know  that  he  plays  that  instrument  at  all,  and 
were  he  to  take  his  flute  some  day  instead  of  his  baton,  and 
give  them  a  solo,  he  might  astonish  them,  but  he  would  have 
to  pay  for  that  pleasure  by  "  stepping  down  "  a  round,  music- 
ally, in  their  estimation.  Mr.  Zerrahn  sings  well,  but  he 
never  sings  a  song.  He  understands  perfectly  the  value  of 
having  but  one  specialty  in  the  public  mind. 

"  Hall's  "  was  a  famous  rendezvous  for  musical  people.  A 
frequent  visitor  was  Captain  Brooks,  who  owned  and  ran  a 
little  steamboat  from  New  York  to  Bridgeport,  Conn.  He 
was  an  enthusiastic  and  indefatigable  collector  of  old  violins. 
Hi  would  often  rush  in  and  want  some  one  to  go  down  to 
his  boat  with  him  and  see  a  new  violin — "a  real  Stradi- 
varius"  or  "  Guarnarius,"  or  something  of  the  kind.  He 
could  not  play  much,  but  through  his  great  interest  in  the 


THE   STORY   OF  A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  93 

subject  he  had  become  a  pretty  good  judge  of  the  instru- 
ment, and  if  he  was  sometimes  deceived  as  to  the  maker  he 
had  no  poor  ones  in  his  collection.  One  day  he  was  particu- 
larly excited,  and  wanted  some  of  us  to  go  with  him  and  see 
a  violin  that  he  had  just  paid  some  hundreds  of  dollars  for. 
A  slight,  smooth-faced,  decidedly  handsome  young  fellow, 
who  was  known  to  play  the  violin  well,  was  there,  and  Cap- 
tain Brooks  induced  him  to  go  and  try  it.  I  could  see  that 
the  young  violinist  was  skeptical  as  to  the  great  merits  of 
the  instrument,  as  claimed  by  the  excited  Captain.  But 
when  he  took  it  into  his  hand,  before  he  touched  bow  to 
string,  his  whole  manner  changed  (though  what  he  could 
see  in  that  glance  I  could  not  imagine),  and  when  he  tucked 
it  lovingly  under  his  chin  the  rest  of  the  world  was  nothing 
to  him  for  half  an  hour  or  more.  He  was  entranced,  and  so 
were  we.  It  was  a  rare  and  beautiful  instrument,  and  the 
young  player  was  Theodore  Thomas. 

Speaking  of  the  "Germania"  reminds  me  of  the  delight 
with  which  we  listened  to  the  first  fine  orchestra  that  came 
to  this  country.  It  was  called  the  Steyermarkische  orches- 
tra. It  was  not  large,  about  twenty  players,  if  I  remember 
rightly,  but  they  played  in  tune,  and  the  smoothness  so  pro- 
duced was  a  revelation.  Their  shading  and  pianissimo  play- 
ing were  also  new  and  delightful.  They  had  a  successful 
tour  and  went  home.  This  must  have  been  about  1846. 
Then  came  the  Germania  orchestra,  with  Carl  Bergmann  for 
conductor.  They  gave  concerts  in  our  principal  cities,  and 
finally  disbanded  here,  most  of  its  members  remaining  on 
this  side  of  the  water. 

The  only  other  foreign  orchestra  to  come  to  this  country 
was  Jullien's ;  I  forget  whether  just  before  or  just  after  the 
Germania,  but  probably  at  about  the  same  time.  Jullien  was 
a  talented  man  and  an  able  conductor,  but  he  was  much 
laughed  at  for  his  flashy  taste  in  dress  and  his  funny  affecta- 


94  THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE. 

tions.  He  brought  with  him  a  gorgeous  conductor's  stand 
and  platform,  and  a  magnificent  chair,  all  apparently  of 
ebony  and  gold.  After  each  number  he  would  sink  into  this 
great  chair  and  let  his  arms  fall  as  if  the  splendid  perform- 
ance had  entirely  exhausted  him,  for  the  performances,  al- 
though of  the  sensational  order,  were  fine.  Bottesini,  the 
great  contra-bass  player,  was  in  this  company.  I  see  he  is 
prominent  in  Europe  now  as  an  author  and  conductor. 

But  it  was  the  oboe  player  who  created  the  greatest  sen- 
sation. He  was  the  first  one  here  to  continue  a  tone  while 
taking  breath.  I  shall  never  forget  the  curious  effect  upon 
the  audience  when,  at  a  cadenza,  the  accompaniment  ceased 
and  a  long  tone  commenced.  After  it  had  continued  to  the 
utmost  bounds  of  the  longest  breath  there  was  a  distressed 
holding  of  breath  by  the  audience,  and  when  it  still  went  on, 
strong  and  clear,  the  excitement  was  intense.  A  little  longer 
and  everybody  saw  he  must  have  taken  breath  somehow, 
and  the  relief  and  applause  were  tremendous.  The  instru- 
ment requires  but  little  breath,  and  he  could  supply  it  from 
the  mouth  on  the  principle  of  a  bellows,  while  filling  his 
lungs  through  the  nostrils. 

We  do  not  now  have  to  get  orchestras  from  the  other 
side  of  the  water,  nor  to  go  over  there  to  hear  the  best. 
Theodore  Thomas  has  rendered  both  unnecessary  by  the 
impulse  he  has  given  to  the  formation  of  first-class  orches- 
tral combinations  in  this  country. 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL,   LIFE.  95 


CHAPTER   IX. 

1 853- 1 855,  NEW  YORK — A  FRANK  STATEMENT — GENIUSES  IN 
MUSIC — "THE  SHINING  SHORE" — EARLY  BOOKS — THE  FIRST 
AMERICAN-MADE  DOCTOR  OF  MUSIC — EARLY  CONVENTIONS 
AT  RICHMOND,  VA.,  AND  IN  THE  WEST — PREPARING  TO 
LEAVE  NEW  YORK — HOW  THE  NORMAL  WENT  TO  NORTH 
READING. 

BEFORE  going  on  to  speak  more  at  length  of  my  com- 
positions and  books,  I  desire  to  make  a  frank  statement 
with  regard  to  myself  and  my  work  in  that  line ;  and  my 
first  remark  is,  that  I  never  felt  in  the  least  that  I  had  a 
"  call  "  to  be  a  musical  composer.  My  first  efforts,  as  I  have 
shown,  were  made  to  supply  my  own  wants,  and  it  was  only 
on  finding  that  they  were  in  a  good  degree  successful  for  my- 
self and  others  that  I  continued  them. 

I  can  truly  say  I  never  dreamed  of  eminence  as  a  writer  of 
music,  and  never  had  fame  for  an  object.  Some  of  my  friends 
who  knew  who  "  Wurzel "  was,  used  to  say :  "Aim  high;  he 
who  aims  at  the  sun  will  reach  farther  than  he  will  who  has 
a  lower  object  for  a  mark."  But  I  saw  so  many  failures  on 
the  part  of  those  who  were  "  aiming  high  "  in  the  sense  in- 
tended, and  trying  to  do  useless  great  things,  that  I  had  no 
temptation  in  that  direction,  but  preferred  to  shoot  at  some- 
thing I  could  hit. 

I  did,  on  two  or  three  occasions,  write  what  I  knew  would 
not  be  needed,  but  in  every  case  had  an  object.  Once,  two 
prizes  were  offered  by  the  publishers  of  a  musical  paper  in 
New  York — fifty  dollars  for  the  best  four-part  song,  and 
twenty-five  dollars  for  the  second  best.    I  sent  in  two,  anon- 


96  THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE. 

ymously,  (as  all  had  to  do,)  and  took  both  prizes.  Two  of 
the  judges  were  loud  despisers  of  "  trash,"  as  they  indiscrimi- 
nately called  all  simple  music,  and  were  much  disgusted 
when  they  learned  who  had  taken  the  prizes. 

Friends  used  to  say :  "  Root,  why  don't  you  do  something 
better  than  '  Hazel  Dell,'  and  things  of  that  grade?"  I  used 
to  answer  :  "  If  you  and  other  musicians  wished  to  use  songs 
of  a  higher  grade,  either  for  teaching  or  for  your  own  sing- 
ing, do  you  suppose  you  would  take  mine  when  you  could 
get  Schubert  or  Franz,  or  even  Abt,  at  the  same  price  or 
less?  "  They  were  generally  silent  at  that,  and  then  I  would 
tell  them  that  in  the  elementary  stages  of  music  there  were 
tens  of  thousands  of  people  whose  wants  would  not  be  sup- 
plied at  all  if  there  were  in  the  world  only  such  music  as 
they  (the  critics)  would  have ;  but 

"  Convince  a  man  against  his  will — 
He's  of  the  same  opinion  still." 

So  they  continued  harping  upon  the  well-worn  subject.  At 
last  I  thought  I  would  publish  a  song  or  two  above  the  grade 
of  the  "  People's  song."  It  was  much  easier  to  write  where 
the  resources  were  greater ;  where  I  did  not  have  to  stop  and 
say,  "That  interval  is  too  difficult,"  or  "That  chord  won't 
do,"  and  I  produced  two  or  three  that  I  knew  would  never 
be  wanted  to  any  extent.  But  they  gave  me  the  opportunity, 
when  the  old  question  came,  "Why  don't  you  do  something 
better?"  to  say  "  Have  you  ever  .seen  or  heard  of  '  Gently, 
Ah,  Gently,'  or  'Pictures  of  Memory?'"  To  which  they 
would  have  to  answer  "  No,"  and  I  could  say  "  That  is  why 
I  do  not  write  '  something  better,'  as  you  call  it.  Neither 
you  nor  any  one  else  would  know  anything  about  my  work 
on  that  grade,  and  I  should  be  wasting  my  time  in  trying  to 
supply  the  wants  of  a  few  people,  who  are  already  abundantly 
supplied  by  the  best  writers  of  Europe."  Then  they  would 
Bay,  "  Well,  it  is  nothing  to  write  those  little  songs."     I  re- 


THE   STORY   OP  A   MUSICAL   UFE.  97 

member  one,  especially,  then  an  eminent  musician  in  New 
York,  who  said:  "I  could  write  a  dozen  in  a  day,"  and, 
thinking  there  might  be  money  in  it,  he  did  try  under  a  nom 
de  plume.  But  his  dozen  or  less  of  "simple  songs"  slum- 
bered quietly  on  the  shelves  of  a  credulous  publisher  until 
they  went  to  the  paper  mill.  It  is  easy  to  write  correctly  a 
simple  song,  but  so  to  use  the  material  of  which  such  a  song 
must  be  made  that  it  will  be  received  and  live  in  the  hearts 
of  the  people  is  quite  another  matter. 

Geniuses  among  musical  composers,  that  is,  those  who 
invent  and  give  to  the  world  new  forms  and  harmonies  that 
live,  are  rare — but  two  or  three  appear  in  a  century.  Of 
such,  Beethoven  in  his  day  and  Wagner  in  this,  are  conspic- 
uous examples.  Then  there  are  great  composers,  who,  al- 
though not  inventors  in  the  above  sense,  make  use  of  exist- 
ing material  in  such  new  and  wonderful  ways  that  their  mu- 
sic not  only  delights  and  benefits  the  world,  but  is  regarded 
in  an  important  sense  as  original.  Of  such  it  seems  to  me 
that  Mendelssohn  is  in  the  highest  rank. 

In  all  grades  from  the  simplest  to  the  highest — from 
Stephen  C.  Foster  to  Wagner,  and  in  every  kind  of  instru- 
mental music,  compositions  divide  themselves  into  two 
classes  in  another  way.  In  one  class  are  the  comparatively 
few  compositions  having  that  mysterious  vitality  of  which  I 
have  spoken ;  that  power  to  retain  their  hold  upon  the  hearts 
of  the  people  after  their  companions  of  the  same  grade,  and 
by  the  same  composer  perhaps,  are  forgotten.  In  the  other 
class  are  those  which  create  a  temporary  interest  if  any,  and 
soon  pass  away.  I  do  not  think  a  composer  ever  knows 
when  that  mysterious  life  enters  his  work.  If  I  may  judge 
by  my  own  experience,  successes  are  usually  surprises,  and 
the  work  that  we  think  best  while  we  are  doing  it,  is  liable 
to  be  considered  in  a  very  different  light  by  the  public. 

That  applies,  however,  to  single  compositions  and  not  to 


98  THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIKE. 

books.  One  may  think  he  is  making  a  good  instruction 
book,  or  putting  together  a  good  collection  of  music,  with- 
out being  mistaken.  I  should  like  to  enlarge  upon  this  point 
when  I  come  to  speak  of  particular  compositions.  All  I 
want  seen  now  is,  that  I  am  simply  one,  who,  from  such 
resources  as  he  finds  within  himself,  makes  music  for  the 
people,  having  always  a  particular  need  in  view.  This,  it 
seems  to  me,  is  a  thing  that  a  person  may  do  with  some 
success,  without  being  either  a  genius  or  a  great  composer. 

My  next  book,  I  think,  was  the  "  Musical  Album."  It  was 
on  the  plan  of  the  "Academy  Vocalist,"  and  followed  that 
work  when  my  classes  wanted  something  new.  I  now  wrote 
some  every  day,  taking  the  intervals  between  lessons  and 
occasionally  an  evening  for  that  purpose.  I  also  took  a 
course  of  lessons  during  one  of  those  winters  from  an  excel-, 
lent  harmonist  and  teacher,  a  Frenchman  by  the  name  of 
Girac. 

Mason  Brothers  published  a  musical  monthly  called  The 
Musical  Review,  and  at  one  time  I  undertook  to  supply 
music  for  each  number.  I  remember  once  when  the  boy 
came  for  copy  I  had  none  ready,  but  looking  into  the  drawer 
of  my  desk  I  found  a  piece  that  I  had  written  some  months 
before  and  thrown  aside  as  not  being  of  much  account.  I 
sent  this  for  want  of  something  better.  It  was  "There's 
Music  in  the  Air,"  and  illustrates  what  I  was  saying  a  little 
while  ago  about  not  knowing  when  we  do  that  which  will 
touch  the  popular  heart. 

But  it  was  at  Willow  Farm  that  I  enjoyed  my  writing 
and  book-making  most.  However  we  might  be  confined  in 
New  York  by  the  summer  Normal,  we  always  had  two  or 
three  weeks  before  the  autumn  work  commenced  at  the  old 
place,  or,  I  might  say  now,  the  new  place.  With  the  dear 
mother  about  the  house,  and  father  attending  to  farm  mat- 
ters, with  children  or  grandchildren  always  around  one  or 


THE    STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  99 

the  other,  an  atmosphere  was  there  which  was  very  favorable 
to  the  work  I  was  doing.  One  day,  I  remember,  I  was  work- 
ing at  a  set  of  graded  part-songs  for  singing  classes,  and 
mother,  passing  through  the  room,  laid  a  slip  from  one  of 
her  religious  newspapers  before  me,  saying:  "George,  I 
think  that  would  be  good  for  music."  I  looked,  and  the 
poem  began,  "  My  days  are  gliding  swiftly  by."  A  simple 
melody  sang  itself  along  in  my  mind  as  I  read,  and  I  jotted 
it  down,  and  went  on  with  my  work.  That  was  the  origin 
of  "  The  Shining  Shore." 

Later,  when  I  took  up  the  melody  to  harmonize  it,  it 
seemed  so  very  simple  and  commonplace  that  I  hesitated 
about  setting  the  other  parts  to  it.  But  I  finally  decided 
that  it  might  be  useful  to  somebody,  and  completed  it,  though 
it  was  not  printed  until  some  months  afterward.  When,  in 
after  years,  this  song  was  sung  in  all  the  churches  and  Sun- 
day-schools of  the  land,  and  in  every  land  and  tongue  where 
our  missionaries  were  at  work,  and  so  demonstrated  that  it 
had  in  it  that  mysterious  life  of  which  I  have  spoken,  I  tried 
to  see  why  it  should  be  so,  but  in  vain.  To  the  musician 
there  is  not  one  reason  in  melody  or  harmony,  scientifically 
regarded,  for  such  a  fact.  To  him,  hundreds  of  others  now 
forgotten  were  better.  I  say  so  much  about  this  little  song 
because  it  is  a  particularly  good  illustration  of  the  fact  that 
the  simplest  music  may  have  vitality  as  w7ell  as  that  which 
is  higher,  and  that  the  composer  knows  no  more  about  it  in 
one  case  than  in  the  other. 

The  newspaper  slip  containing  this  hymn  wThich  my 
mother  handed  me  had  no  author's  name  attached.  It  was 
some  years  before  I  learned  that  it  was  the  Rev.  David  Nel- 
son who  wrote  it,  and  it  was  but  recently  that  the  following 
sketch  of  his  life,  taken  from  "Asa  Turner  and  His  Times," 
was  sent  to  me : 


IOO  THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

David  Nelson  was  born  in  East  Tennessee  in  1793;  graduated 
from  Washington  College  in  1809.  He  at  first  studied  medicine,  but 
afterward  entered  the  ministry  and  preached  in  Tennessee  and  Ken- 
tucky, and  finally  removed  to  Missouri.  He  was  six  feet  and  two 
inches  high,  and  had  a  voice  of  great  power  and  melody,  which  he 
used  with  great  success,  anticipating  the  singing  evangelist  of  to- 
day. 

I  [e  opened  a  plantation  in  Missouri  in  true  southern  style,  but 
an  address  by  Theodore  D.  Weld  changed  his  sentiments  and  led 
him  to  say,  "I  will  live  on  roast  potatoes  and  salt  before  I  will  hold 
slaves."  He  became  an  advocate  of  colonization,  and,  in  1831,  at  the 
close  of  a  camp-meeting,  read  a  notice  calling  people  to  meet  to  dis- 
cuss the  project.  Disorder  followed,  and  Dr.  Nelson  was  driven  from 
his  home  by  a  body  of  armed  men.  After  three  days  and  nights  of 
wandering  he  came  to  the  great  river,  and  made  known  his  condi- 
tion to  friends  in  Quincy,  Illinois,  on  the  opposite  side — there,  far 
away. 

Hiding  in  the  bushes,  with  the  Mississippi  at  the  foot  of  the 
bluff  "  gliding  swiftly  by,"  and  "  friends  passing  over"  to  and  from 
a  free  state — a  safe  landing  on  which  he  could"  almost  discover,"  he 
wrote  on  the  backs  of  letters  the  Christian  psalm  of  life,  "  My  days 
are  gliding  swiftly  by." 

Two  members  of  the  Congregational  Church  in  Quincy,  at  dusk 
paddled  a  "  dug-out"  across  the  river  and  fished  in  the  slough  near 
the  western  shore.  Learning  by  signs  just  where  Dr.  Nelson  was, 
they  let  their  boat  float  down  toward  the  Missouri  "strand."  With 
huge  strides  the  fugitive  evangelist  came  down,  and  the  slavehold- 
ing  scouts  were  foiled. 

Dr.  Nelson,  well-nigh  starved,  asked  if  they  had  brought  him 
anything  to  eat.  "  Something  in  the  bag,"  replied  one  of  the 
brethren,  rowing  with  all  his  might.  The  brave  but  famished  man 
brought  up  from  the  bag  at  the  stern  only  dried  codfish  and 
crackers.  Laughing  heartily  he  said,  "  Well,  I'm  dependent  on 
Yankees,  and  shall  have  to  be  a  Yankee  myself  after  this,  and  I  may 
as  well  begin  on  codfish  and  crackers." 

The  chivalry  crossed  the  river  and  demanded  that  Dr.  Nelson 
should  be  given  up,  but  were  told  that  he  was  under  the  laws  of 
Illinois,  and  slaveholders  could  not  have  him. 

Dr.  Nelson  was  commissioned  by  the  Home  Missionary  Society 
in  Illinois,  and,  in  addition  to  his  regular  work,  made  powerful  and 
touching  anti-slavery  addresses.     He  died  in  October,  1844. 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  IOI 

From  1853  to  x^55  inclusive  the  Normal  Musical  Insti- 
tute was  held  in  New  York  city,  but  every  year  my  conven- 
tion work,  and,  consequently,  my  knowledge  of  what  the 
singers  throughout  the  country  needed,  and  could  do,  in- 
creased, and  every  year  it  became  more  and  more  apparent 
that  the  city  was  not  a  good  place  for  Normals,  not  only  on 
account  of  the  heat  but  the  expense.  So,  in  1855,  I  decided 
to  give  up  my  city  work  as  soon  as  it  could  be  brought 
about,  and  devote  myself  wholly  to  conventions,  Normal 
and  authorship.  Meanwhile  Mr.  Mason  had  come  to  like 
New  York,  and  his  sons,  who  had  prospered  greatly  there, 
induced  him  to  leave  his  Boston  home  and  settle  in  the 
great  city.  They  had  some  picturesque  and  valuable  acres 
on  the  mountain  side,  in  Orange,  New  Jersey,  and  soon  the 
three  families  built  and  occupied  fine  residences  there. 

One  day,  soon  after  Mr.  Mason  came  to  New  York  to 
live,  I  called  on  Dr.  Ferris,  with  whom  I  had  been  con- 
nected for  some  years  at  Rutgers  Institute,  and  who  was 
now  Chancellor  of  the  New  York  University,  and  said  to 
him,  "  Could  your  institution  confer  the  degree  of  Doctor  of 
Music?"  "Certainly."  "Well,  I  think  that  that  title  has 
never  been  conferred  upon  an  American  by  an  American 
institution.  S.  Parkman  Tuckerman,  of  Boston,  is  the  only 
American  Doctor  of  Music  that  I  know  of,  and  his  degree 
is  from  an  English  university."  I  then  said,  "  you  know 
of  L,owell  Mason,  and  what  he  has  done  for  church  music 
and  musical  instruction  in  schools  and  among  the  people  of 
this  country."  "  Yes."  "  Well,  what  would  you  think  of 
having  your  University  the  first  in  America  to  confer  the 
title  of  Doctor  of  Music,  and  that  that  distinction  should 
fall  upon  America's  greatest  musical  educator?"  He 
thought  so  well  of  it  that  it  was  promptly  done. 

I  said  nothing  to  Mr.  Mason  about  it  until  it  was  accom- 
plished.    When  it  was,  and  was  announced  in  one  of  the 


102  THE    STORY    OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE. 

morning  papers,  I  took  a  copy  and  went  to  his  house.  He 
was  in  his  library,  and  as  I  entered  I  saluted  him  with 
"  Good  morning,  Doctor  Mason,"  emphasizing  the  title.  He 
looked  up,  evidently  wondering  a  little  that  I  should  be 
making  a  cheap  joke  of  that  kind,  but  immediately  resumed 
his  usual  manner,  and  said,  "I  want  to  show  you  a  tune 
that  I  have  just  made  for  this  hymn."  He  was  very  full 
of  that  tune.  I  forget  now  what  it  was,  but  I  remember 
that  I  had  considerable  difficulty  in  getting  the  idea  of  the 
title  fully  into  his  mind.  I  mention  this  as  illustrating  the 
fact,  well  known  to  Dr.  Mason's  friends,  that  he  never 
sought  honors  or  distinctions  any  more  than  he  did  wealth. 
He  gave  himself  wholly  to  his  work,  and  if  other  things 
came  they  must  come  without  any  effort  on  his  part. 

Among  the  early  normals  was  Wm.  C.  Van  Meter,  then 
a  typical  far-westerner,  a  preacher,  exhorter,  singing-master, 
and  I  don't  know  what  else.  Eloquent  and  magnetic  as  a 
speaker  in  his  strange  western  way,  he  created  a  great  inter- 
est in  the  class.  He  stopped  at  the  Astor  House  the  night 
he  arrived,  and  said  that  when  he  got  up  in  the  morning 
and  saw  such  crowds  going  dowm  toward  a  church  that  he 
saw  a  little  way  off  (Trinity)  he  thought  there  must  be  a 
revival  there,  and  he  reported  that  he  did  not  wait  for  his 
breakfast,  but  hurried  down  to  join  in  the  exercises.  It 
took  him  some  time  to  realize  that  that  was  the  ordinary 
flow  of  humanity  at  the  "downtown"  hour. 

Mr.  Van  Meter  was  great  for  engineering  musical  con- 
ventions. He  made  up  his  mind  that  my  talents  were  being 
wasted  in  Xew  York  and  the  East,  and  that  I  must  go  to 
the  South  and  West  to  be  properly  appreciated.  So  he  pre- 
pared the  way,  to  begin  with,  in  Richmond,  Va.  Let  Mr. 
Van  Meter  get  an  audience  together  and  there  was  no  resist- 
ing him.  lie  could  make  people  *laugh  or  cry  at  will,  and 
paint  in   more  glowing   colors  whatever  he  described  than 


THE    STORY    OF   A    MUSICAL    LTPK.  I03 

any  man  I  ever  knew.  He  always  induced  a  large  number 
of  people  to  attend  conventions,  but  he  made  it  particularly 
hard  for  the  conductor  to  meet  the  expectations  that  he 
raised. 

I  went  to  Richmond  first  to  conduct  a  convention  of  Mr. 
Van  Meter's  getting  up,  and  then  some  months  after  to  con- 
duct some  performances  of  "The  Flower  Queen."  On  this 
latter  occasion  my  home  was  the  hospitable  mansion  of  the 
father  of  "Marion  Harland."  She  was  then  a  young  lady, 
writing  her  second  book,  her  first,  "Alone,"  having  been  a 
great  success,  making  her  famous  at  a  bound.  The  Rev. 
Dr.  Terhune,  whose  wife  she  now  is,  then  a  young  man, 
was  also  a  guest  in  that  charming  home.  At  the  close  of 
"  The  Flower  Queen  "  class  I  was  presented  with  my  first 
gold-headed  cane.  In  after  years  I  had  good  reason  to  be- 
lieve the  donors  would  have  been  glad  to  break  it  over  the 
head  of  the  man  who  wrote  war  songs  for  the  northern 
army.  I  hope  and  think  that  feeling  has  now  entirely 
passed  away.  On  both  sides  we  did  what  we  thought  was 
right. 

Speaking  of  Richmond  reminds  me  that  I  conducted  two 
conventions  in  Washington,  not  far  from  that  time,  one 
alone,  and  one  assisted  by  Mr.  Bradbury.  I  mention  them 
because  the  second  one  was  in  the  Smithsonian  Institute 
when  Prof.  Henry  was  at  its  head.  It  was  an  effort  to 
secure  a  more  general  attendance  than  such  gatherings 
usually  have,  and  was  located  at  Washington  to  be  near  the 
southern  states.  I  remember  well  the  hearty  welcome  that 
Prof.  Henry  gave  us,  and  the  kind  interest  he  took  in  the 
exercises.  Nothing  in  the  nature  of  popular  education  ap- 
pealed to  him  in  vain.  He  was  a  man  of  whom  the  nation 
is  justly  proud. 

Under  Mr.  Van  Meter's  management  I  conducted  two 
conventions  in  Quincy,  Ills.,  and  held  a  sort  of  short  Normal 


104  THE    STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE. 

in  Jacksonville.  A  part  of  the  program  of  this  manager 
seemed  always  to  be  a  present  for  the  conductor  at  the  close 
of  the  session.  A  silver  cup,  or  a  cane,  or  something  for 
the  table,  always  appeared  at  the  closing  concert,  and  I  used 
to  get  Mr.  Van  Meter  to  help  me  return  thanks,  which  he 
always  did  in  the  most  eloquent  manner.  This  remarkable 
man  worked  afterward,  for  some  years,  in  and  for  the  Five 
Points  Mission  in  New  York,  and  was  for  a  still  greater 
number  of  years  in  evangelistic  labors  in  Rome,  Italy. 

It  was  hard  to  leave  the  work  and  the  friends  in  New 
York.  The  work  had  been  pleasant  and  the  friends  most 
kind  ;.nd  generous.  Not  a  year  of  the  ten  that  I  had  been 
there  did  the  "  commencements  "  fail  to  bring  some  token 
of  remembrance,  often  costly,  always  useful,  from  schools 
or  church.  The  last,  and  most  valuable,  was  a  solid  silver 
tea-service  to  my  wife  when  we  left  Mercer  Street  Church. 
We  have  all  these  gifts  now,  excepting  some  volumes  of 
rare  old  English  music,  one  of  the  annual  presents  from 
Rutgers.  They  were  in  my  working  room  at  the  store  at 
the  time  of  the  great  fire,  and  shared  the  fate  of  my  diary. 
Thinking  of  the  presents,  a  beautiful  silver  cup  reminds 
me  of  a  class  I  had  in  those  days  at  the  "  Brick  Church  "  in 
Orange,  New  Jersey .  I  mention  it  because  I  think  it  will 
interest  some  of  the  many  hundreds  who  now  go  daily  to 
New  York  from  there,  to  know  that  then  three  persons  con- 
stituted the  daily  quota  from  that  station. 

As  soon  as  I  decided  to  leave  New  York  I  said  to  my 
old  friends  in  North  Reading,  "  If  you  will  prepare  a  suitable 
place  for  us,  I  will  have  the  Normal  Musical  Institute  here 
next  summer."  They  called  a  town  meeting,  at  which  was 
explained  that  the  school  would  probably  bring  a  hundred 
strangers  there  for  three  months,  which  would  mean  to  the 
town   some  money  and  a  good  deal  of  music.     Both  ideas 


THE    STORY   OF  A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  105 

were  well  received  and  prompt  action  was  taken.  The 
building  that  was  prepared  for  us  is  worth  telling  about. 

When  I  was  a  boy  there  stood  in  the  center  of  the  village 
one  of  the  old  colonial  "meeting  houses."  Its  pews  were 
square,  its  pulpit  twelve  or  more  feet  high,  with  a  "sound- 
ing board,"  like  a  huge  bell,  hanging  above  it,  under  which 
the  minister  stood.  When  at  last  the  old  building  became 
too  dilapidated  for  further  use  it  was  decided  to  tear  it  down 
and  replace  it  with  a  modern  structure.  In  the  olden  times 
all  had  worshiped  there  together  with  no  dissensions,  but, 
gradually,  differences  of  opinion  had  arisen,  and  had  been 
maintained  as  usual  in  such  cases  with  a  good  deal  of  ran- 
cor. The  "  orthodox,"  as  they  were  called,  although  not  the 
most  numerous,  had  the  most  money,  and  were  the  most 
willing  to  spend  it  for  church  purposes,  so  they  had  minister 
and  service  pretty  much  their  own  way.  This  did  not  tend 
to  conciliate  the  other  side,  among  whom  were  quite  a  num- 
ber of  Universalists,  and  who,  in  consequence,  did  not  go 
much  to  "meeting." 

Still  they  went  on  and  put  up  the  new  building,  nomi- 
nally all  together  as  a  society,  but  it  was  really  by  the 
energy,  and  mostly  by  the  money,  of  the  first  named  party 
that  it  was  accomplished.  When  the  new  edifice  was  com- 
pleted, and  a  minister  settled,  the  Universalists  asked  per- 
mission to  have  service  there  occasionally  on  Sunday  after- 
noons. I  don't  think  it  was  bigotry,  so  much  as  conscience, 
that  led  the  orthodox  party  to  refuse  this  request,  but  it  was 
refused.  Then  the  opposing  elements  got  together  and  said, 
"This  building  belongs  to  the  society,  and  a  majority  of  the 
society  can  say  what  kind  of  preaching  shall  be  in  it."  They 
probably  would  not  have  ignored  the  fact  that  they  did  very 
little  toward  building  it  if  they  had  been  kindly  treated,  but, 
as  it  was,  they  called  a  meeting  of  the  society  and  managed 


106  TinC    STORY   OF    A    MUSICAL   LIFE. 

to  have  a  majority  there  to  vote  that  a  Universalist  minister 
should  occupy  the  new  pulpit  all  the  time. 

I  was  but  a  boy  then,  but  I  remember  how  sad  my  old 
grandfather,  one  of  the  deacons  of  the  church,  looked  the 
next  day.  However,  he  went  immediately  to  work  to  get 
the  names  of  those  who  would  form  a  new  society,  specific- 
ally "  orthodox,"  and  build  a  new  church.  This  was  speedily 
done,  but,  as  was  foreseen,  the  Universalists,  and  those  who 
sympathized  with  them  but  did  not  care  much  about  "going 
to  meeting,"  could  not,  or  would  not  support  a  minister,  and 
carry  on  Sunday  services.  So,  in  a  short  time,  all  such 
efforts  were  abandoned,  and  the  building  was  useless  for 
years,  excepting  as  it  was  wanted  for  an  occasional  public 
gathering. 

When,  therefore,  my  proposition  came,  all  differences 
ceased.  Music  and  some  general  advantage  to  the  town 
were  grounds  for  a  general  amnesty,  and  it  was  voted  unan- 
imously to  give  up  the  building  to  the  town,  and  then  the 
town  voted  to  prepare  it  for  our  use.  This  they  found  would 
make  it  just  what  was  wanted  for  a  convenient  town  hall. 


the  story  of  a  musical  life.  107 


CHAPTER  X. 

1856-1859,  NORTH  READING,  MASS.  —  A  GREAT  SCHOOL  IN  A 
SMALL  TOWN — A  VISIT  FROM  HENRY  WARD  BEECHER  AND 
MRS.  STOWE  —  NATHAN  RICHARDSON  AND  "  ROSALIE,  THE 
PRAIRIE  FLOWER" — WRITING  AT  WILLOW  FARM — THE 
"HAYMAKERS" — THE  BEGINNING  OF  EAR  TRAINING  IN 
CLASSES  FOR  HARMONY — "  EXCEPT  YE  BECOME  AS  LITTLE 
CHILDREN" — DISTINGUISHED  VISITORS — RELATIVE  PROFITS 
OF  CANTATA  MAKER  AND  CANTATA  GIVER — COMPOSITIONS 
AS    PROPERTY. 

>T"\HE  Normal  Musical  Institute  commenced  in  North 
-*■  Reading  in  1856.  The  faculty  then  was  Dr.  Mason, 
Mr.  Webb,  Mr.  Bradbury  and  myself — August  Kreissman, 
of  Boston,  assisting  in  private  lessons.  The  attendance  was 
large,  and  the  difference  between  the  city  and  this  dear  old 
place  delightful.  As  may  readily  be  seen,  so  long  as  this 
was  the  only  institution  of  the  kind  in  the  country  it  not 
only  attracted  people  from  afar,  but  it  brought  the  promi- 
nent ones — those  who  at  home  were  the  principal  teachers 
or  singers  of  their  sections.  All  liked  North  Reading — the 
place,  the  people  and  the  arrangements  for  work.  It  is  a 
picturesque  old  town.  Few  views  are  more  beautiful  than 
that  which  is  seen  from  a  hill  near  the  village,  of  the  Ipswich 
River,  there  a  small  stream,  winding  in  and  out  among  the 
trees  that  fringe  its  sides,  far  away  in  the  meadows  below ; 
and  the  walk  over  this  hill  and  through  the  woods  beyond 
to  Willow  Farm  was  a  great  delight,  especially  to  the  west- 
ern contingent,  to  whom  the  "  rocks  and  rills  and  wooded 
hills  "  of  New  England  were  a  novelty. 


108  THE   STORY   OF  A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

The  people  of  the  town  were  always  ready  to  do  anything 
in  their  power  to  further  the  interests  of  the  school  and  to 
make  the  stay  of  the  strangers  pleasant.  The  building,  as  it 
had  been  prepared  for  us,  was  very  comfortable  and  conven- 
ient. Up  one  flight  of  stairs  was  the  room  where  all  as- 
sembled for  the  opening  exercises,  and  where  Dr.  Mason's 
and  other  lessons  to  the  whole  Institute  were  given.  On 
the  ground  floor  was  a  larger  hall,  and  below  that  a  light 
basement.  An  additional  room  in  a  neighboring  building 
was  also  used  for  some  of  the  smaller  classes.  We  had  one 
evening  rehearsal  in  the  week  in  the  hall,  and  one  evening 
when  the  friends  and  neighbors  could  come  and  hear  us  sing. 

It  was  a  strange  thing  to  hear  such  a  chorus  under  such 
conductors  as  Dr.  Mason  and  Mr.  Webb  in  so  small  a  place 
as  our  little  village,  but  we  never  lacked  an  audience.  In- 
deed, as  the  Normal  did  not  then  seek  to  derive  any  revenue 
from  public  performances,  it  was  not  long  before  we  were 
troubled  for  room  on  our  public  evenings.  We  invited  the 
neighbors,  but  we  did  not  limit  the  neighborhood,  and  that 
gradually  extended  until  it  took  in  the  neighboring  towns, 
which  were  Andover  on  the  north,  Middleton  and  Iyynnfield 
on  the  east,  the  other  two  Readings  on  the  south,  and  Wil- 
mington on  the  west.  Every  pleasant  Friday,  at  five  or  six 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  vehicles  of  all  sorts  could  be  seen 
coming  from  one  or  more  of  these  places  to  be  in  time  for 
the  evening  sing.  Those  were  happy  times.  How  Dr. 
Mason's  grand  chorus  work  and  the  exquisite  glee  singing 
under  Mr.  Webb  did  ring  and  float  out  at  the  open  windows 
of  our  pleasant  hall,  and  away  upon  the  summer  air !  Al- 
most incredible  stories  were  told  of  the  distance  at  which  our 
music  was  heard  when  the  evenings  were  still. 

One  of  the  most  prominent  members  of  the  Institute  at 
North  Reading  was  W.  W.  Killip,  of  Geneseo,  N.  Y.  He 
was  a  man  of  excellent  abilities,  musical  and  otherwise,  and 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   UFE.  109 

he  had  a  hearty,  whole-souled  way  of  meeting  people  that 
was  very  attractive.  Mrs.  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe  then  lived 
at  Andover,  near  the  Theological  Seminary,  seven  miles 
from  our  town.  Henry  Ward  Beecher  generally  spent  a 
week  or  two  with  his  sister  there  in  the  summer.  The  boys, 
or,  I  should  say,  all  the  members  of  the  Institute,  wanted  to 
see  Mr.  Beecher,  and  Dr.  Mason  and  I  intended  to  ask  him 
to  spend  a  day  with  us,  but  Mr.  Killip  wouldn't  wait.  He 
said:  "I'm  not  going  to  have  any  uncertainty  about  this ; 
I'm  going  to  see  him  and  get  him  to  set  a  day  to  come  soon." 
Ordinarily,  such  a  messenger,  going  on  his  own  account, 
would  not  have  fared  so  well  as  a  simple  bearer  of  an  invita- 
tion from  Dr.  Mason,  whom  Mr.  Beecher  highly  esteemed ; 
but  I  knew  Mr.  Beecher,  and  was  sure  Mr.  Killip's  bluff, 
hearty  way  would  interest  him.  He  went,  and  came  back 
triumphant.  "  Yes,  he's  coming  next  Tuesday."  "  Did  he 
consent  readily?"  I  asked.  "He  hesitated  some,"  Mr.  K. 
replied,  "  but  I  told  him  I'd  vote  for  his  candidate  for  Gov- 
ernor if  he  would  come,  and  that  settled  it." 

Not  only  Mr.  Beecher,  but  Mrs.  Stowe  and  the  old  father, 
Dr.  Lyman  Beecher,  and  Mr.  Charles  Beecher  came.  After 
the  opening  exercises  and  Dr.  Mason's  inimitable  teaching 
lesson,  the  great  desire  of  the  class  to  hear  Mr.  Beecher  speak 
was  gratified.  His  beginning  was  most  characteristic.  He 
said :  "  I  like  the  way  your  seats  are  arranged  to  bring  the 
class  near  the  platform  and  into  close  connection  with  the 
teacher,  and  your  platform  is  just  the  right  height.  The 
devil  always  looks  on  when  they  are  building  a  church  to 
see  how  far  they  get  the  pews  from  the  minister."  Then 
Mr.  Beecher,  supposing  a  case,  paced  slowly  the  long  way 
of  the  platform,  to  represent  the  wide  space  that  was  being 
left  between  minister  and  people,  counting  his  steps  in  a 
crescendo  of  satisfaction,  and  bringing  his  fist  down  into  his 
open  palm  at  the  close — all  to  represent  what  his  satanic 


I  IO  THE   STORY    OF   A   MUSICAL    LIFE. 

majesty  would  do  and  say  under  the  circumstances :  "  One, 
two,  three,  four,  five,  six,  seven  ;  good !  he'll  never  hit  'em!  " 
Then  he  talked  for  half  an  hour  on  the  relations  of  music  to 
the  church  and  the  home,  as  only  Mr.  Beecher  could  talk. 
The  whole  party  dined  at  Willow  Farm  and  attended  the 
afternoon  chorus  and  glee  singing,  which  they  greatly  en- 
joyed. 

About  the  time  that  I  began  to  be  known  as  a  successful 
song-writer  Nathan  Richardson  (afterward  author  of  "The 
Popular  Piano  Instructor")  started  a  music  publishing  house 
in  Boston.  He  had  lived  some  years  in  Germany,  and  had 
come  home  filled  with  a  strong  desire  to  improve  the  music- 
al tastes  of  the  benighted  people  of  his  native  land.  This 
sounds  like  laughing  at  my  old  friend.  Well,  it  is  so;  but 
not  so  much  as  I  have  done  to  his  face  many  a  time.  The 
saying  of  the  boatswain  in  "  Pinafore  "  of  the  Admiral  would 
have  applied  exactly  here :  "  He  means  well,  but  he  don't 
know."  As  it  was,  he  determined  that  he  would  publish 
nothing  but  high-class  music.  I  doubt  if  there  was  an 
American  then  whose  compositions  he  would  have  taken  as 
a  gift.  He  had  an  elegant  store  on  Washington  street,  fitted 
and  furnished  in  an  expensive  manner  through  the  generos- 
ity of  an  older  brother,  who  had  plenty  of  money,  and  who 
seemed  delighted  to  aid  Nathan  in  his  praiseworthy  efforts 
for  the  fatherland. 

All  went  well  for  a  few  months.  Musicians  met  there 
and  greatly  enjoyed  a  chat  amid  the  luxurious  surroundings, 
and  they  occasionally  bought  a  piece  of  music  when  they 
found  what  their  pupils  could  use.  Some  of  the  compara- 
tively few  amateurs  of  the  city,  wTho  were  advanced,  also 
patronized  the  establishment,  but  it  did  not  pay.  At  length 
both  Nathan  and  the  rich  brother  became  convinced  that 
they  could  not  make  people  buy  music,  however  fine,  that 
they  could  not  understand  nor  perform,  and  they  found  that 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL    LIFE.  Ill 

calling  the  music  that  the  common  people  liked,  "  trash,"  did 
not  help  the  matter  at  all. 

So  the  question  came  up  between  them  of  getting  some- 
thing to  publish  that  the  people  would  buy.  In  this  dilem- 
ma my  friend  came  to  me  and  asked  me  if  I  would  write  him 
six  songs.  I  laughed  at  him  a  little,  but  was  very  happy  to 
do  it,  my  three-years'  engagement  with  Wm.  Hall  &  Son 
being  just  out.  The  songs  were  finished  during  vacation, 
and  we  tried  them  over  at  Willow  Farm  in  manuscript. 
There  were  six  of  us,  and  I  said  :  "  Let  us  choose  from  these 
six  songs  the  one  that  we  think  will  become  most  popular. 
The  oldest  shall  choose  first,  then  the  next  shall  choose  from 
the  remainder,  then  the  next,  and  so  on  down  to  the  young- 
est." The  youngest  was  my  sister  Fanny,  then  a  young 
girl,  and  when  the  choice  came  to  her  the  only  song  left  un- 
chosen  was  "  Rosalie,  the  Prairie  Flower." 

When  I  took  the  songs  to  my  friend  he  said  he  would 
prefer  to  buy  them  outright.  What  would  I  take  for  the 
"lot"?  There  was  a  bit  of  sarcasm  in  the  last  word. 
"Well,"  I  replied,  "as  you  propose  a  wholesale  instead  of  a 
retail  transaction,  you  shall  have  the  "  lot "  at  wholesale 
prices,  which  will  be  one  hundred  dollars  apiece — six  hun- 
dred dollars  for  all."  He  laughed  at  the  idea.  His  splendid 
foreign  reprints  had  cost  him  nothing.  The  idea  of  paying 
such  a  sum  for  these  little  things  could  not  be  thought  of. 
"Very  well,"  I  said,  "  Give  me  the  usual  royalty;  that  will 
suit  me  quite  as  well."  This  was  agreed  to,  and  when  he  had 
paid  me  in  royalties  nearly  three  thousand  dollars  for  "  Rosa- 
lie "  alone,  he  concluded  that  six  hundred  for  the  "  lot " 
would  not  have  been  an  unreasonable  price,  especially  as  all 
the  songs  of  the  set  had  a  fair  sale,  for  which  he  had  to  pay 
in  addition.  But  he  learned  wisdom  by  experience  as  to 
what  people  in  elementary  states  must  have,  and  he  showed 
himself  an  able  man  and  a  good  musician  in  the  great  in- 
struction book  that  bears  his  name. 


112  THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

Willow  Farm  was  now  headquarters.  From  there  I  went 
to  musical  conventions  in  all  parts  of  the  country,  and  there 
I  worked  at  books  and  songs.  I  have  said  that  I  never  con- 
sidered that  I  had  a  "call"  to  be  a  musical  composer — that 
my  efforts  in  that  way  began  by  trying  to  supply  my  own 
needs.  I  can  say  the  same  in  a  still  more  emphatic  way  in 
regard  to  writing  words  for  music.  I  presume  I  should  never 
have  attempted  to  do  that  if  I  could  always  have  found  some 
one  to  do  what  I  wanted.  But  this  I  could  not  do.  Some- 
times the  trouble  was  with  the  meter,  sometimes  with  words 
that  followed  each  other  roughly,  jolting,  like  a  wagon  over 
a  rocky  road ;  sometimes  a  thin  vowel  for  a  high  soprano 
tone,  and  sometimes  wrong  emotional  expression  for  the 
music  I  had  in  mind. 

My  efforts  at  writing  words  began  in  New  York,  and  I 
well  remember  how  laborious  the  somewhat  mechanical 
matter  of  rhyming  was  at  first,  and  how  gradually  it  grew 
easier  with  practice.  At  North  Reading  there  was  no  one 
near  to  go  to  for  words,  but  that  kind  of  work  was  not  now 
so  formidable,  thanks  to  the  practice  I  had  had,  and  I  enjoyed 
greatly  turning  into  rhyme  for  lessons  and  songs  the  thoughts 
that  came  amid  the  pleasant  scenes  that  surrounded  me  there. 

The  beginning  of  this  kind  of  work  is  seen  in  the  "  Sab- 
bath Bell,"  which  was  the  first  book  to  grade  carefully  lessons 
and  part-songs  for  singing  classes.  This  was  my  first  vent- 
ure alone  for  choirs,  singing  classes  and  conventions,  and  I 
attribute  its  success  largely  to  these  words,  which  were  writ- 
ten as  needed  for  the  grade  wanted.  The  same  scenes  and 
surroundings  contributed  to  the  singing  class  department  of 
the  "  Diapason,"  which  followed.  My  first  sight  of  the  West 
impressed  me  strongly,  and  some  songs  about  the  prairies 
naturally  followed.  Among  the  lessons  and  songs  written 
as  above  described,  some  have  continued  in  use  to  the  pres- 
ent time.     I  mention  a  few  of  them  here  :  "  By  the  brooklet 


THK   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  113 

clear,"  "  Music  everywhere,"  "  High  in  the  summer  sky," 
"O'er  prairie,  green  and  fair,"  "Autumn  winds,"  "O'er  the 
calm  lake,"  "  Don't  you  see  me  coming?"  (song  of  the  bobo- 
link), "  Up  in  the  morning  so  early,"  "  Have  you  seen  my 
Lillie?"  "Ha!  ha!  ha!  Laughing  is  contagious,"  "Out  on 
the  prairie,"  "Happy  New  Year,"  "Softly  she  faded,"  "To 
the  mountain,"  "  On  the  heather,"  "  Thoughts  of  childhood  " 
and  "  Merry  May." 

While  North  Reading  was  headquarters,  I  was  often  in 
New  York  on  my  way  to  or  from  conventions,  and  of  course 
in  constant  communication  with  my  publishers.  On  one 
occasion,  during  the  year  1856,  Lowell  Mason,  Jr.,  the  senior 
partner  of  the  house  of  Mason  Brothers,  suggested  that  I 
should  write  a  cantata  for  mixed  voices,  but  on  some  secu- 
lar subject.  After  some  consideration  haymaking,  as  it  was 
then  carried  on,  was  chosen,  and  "The  Haymakers"  decided 
upon  as  the  title.  Mr.  Mason  (L.  M.,  Jr.)  took  a  great  inter- 
est in  this  work,  and  to  a  great  extent  planned  it,  not  only 
as  to  characters  and  action,  but  as  to  what,  in  a  general  way, 
each  number  should  be  about. 

Taking  his  plan  I  wrote  both  words  and  music — some- 
times the  words  first,  sometimes  the  music  first,  and  some- 
times both  together.  I  did  most  of  the  work  in  my  new 
library  at  Willow  Farm,  where,  by  stepping  to  the  door,  I 
could  see  the  very  fields  in  which  I  had  swung  the  scythe 
and  raked  the  hay,  and  in  which  I  had  many  a  time  hurried 
to  get  the  last  load  into  the  barn  before  the  thunder-storm 
should  burst  upon  us.  In  fact,  nearly  every  scene  described 
in  the  cantata  had  its  counterpart  in  my  experience  on  the  old 
farm  not  many  years  before,  always  excepting  "  Snipkins," 
the  city  man  who  found  himself  so  much  out  of  place  in 
the  country  and  among  the  haymakers.  That  was  a  purely 
imaginary  character.  This  cantata  was  published  in  1857, 
and  began  to  be  sung  immediately.     During  the  following 


114  TIIK    STORY    OF    A    MUSICAL    UF£. 

year  I  conducted  it  twenty  times  in  Boston  and  the  neigh- 
boring cities. 

The  second  year  of  the  Normal  at  North  Reading  had  a 
still  larger  attendance.  To  find  boarding-places  within  a 
reasonable  distance  for  all,  and  to  get  pianos  enough  up  from 
Boston  to  supply  the  increasing  number  who  wished  to  take 
private  lessons,  became  a  difficult  matter,  but  it  was  managed, 
and  the  work  generally  improved  with  experience.  About 
this  time  I  tried  teaching  elementary  harmony  in  classes, 
requiring  the  pupils  to  know  chords  through  the  ear  before 
writing  them.  There  had  been,  as  I  thought,  too  much  eye 
harmony — deciding  that  certain  harmonies  were  wrong  be- 
cause they  did  not  look  right.  Pupils  had  received  the  kind 
of  training  that  leads  to  condemning  the  consecutive  fifths 
that  a  skillful  composer  might  use,  because,  to  the  eye,  they 
violated  a  rule.  I  had  also  observed  that  many  harmony 
papers  that  had  been  given  to  pupils  to  fill  out  with  proper 
chords  were  so  much  Greek  to  them,  so  far  as  hearing  in 
their  minds  the  chords  they  were  writing ;  not  but  that  the 
teacher  might  have  played  the  lesson  to  them  as  it  should 
be,  but  there  was  no  such  ear  training  as  made  the  harmony 
a  part  of  the  musical  life  of  the  pupil. 

I  found  that  twenty  or  thirty  could  hear  and  answer  as 
well  as  one  alone,  so  I  played  and  they  listened  until  they 
could  tell  promptly  and  accurately  what  they  heard,  begin- 
ning, of  course,  with  the  simplest  combinations.  In  this  train- 
ing they  had  nothing  to  look  at,  and  they  wrote  only  what 
had  entered  their  musical  minds  by  the  proper  avenue,  viz., 
the  ear.  I  think  the  idea  of  working  in  this  way  came  to 
me  from  teaching  the  blind.  I  found  they  knew  and  enjoyed 
harmony  far  more  thoroughly  than  seeing  pupils  did,  and 
the  result  of  my  experiment  was  very  satisfactory.  Instead 
of  getting  tired  of  harmony  and  giving  it  up  because  they 
could  not  understand  it  (really  because  they  did  not  get  it), 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  115 

the  class  grew  more  and  more  interested  in  their  harmony 
lessons.  I  do  not  remember  any  approval  of  Dr.  Mason  and 
Mr.  Webb  that  gave  me  so  much  satisfaction  and  pleasure  as 
that  which  came  to  me  on  account  of  this  work.  Both  were 
pleased  that  harmony,  which  had  been  a  dull  and  heavy  study, 
now  promised  to  be  a  bright  and  cheery  one. 

It  was  interesting  to  observe  the  changes  that  came  over 
the  new  pupils  during  their  first  three  or  four  weeks  in  the 
Institute.  Many  of  them  were  great  men  at  home — had  been 
praised  and  looked  up  to  until  they  hardly  liked  to  appear  as 
if  they  came  as  learners.  Not  infrequently,  on  being  intro- 
duced, one  would  give  me  a  friendly  slap  on  the  shoulder 
and  say :  "  Well,  Root,  I  thought  I  would  come  and  see  how 
you  do  things  here,"  or,  "I  should  like  to  show  you  my  way 
of  teaching,"  etc.  The  old  hands  standing  by  would  look 
on  mischievously  or  compassionately,  as  the  case  might  be, 
but  generally  said  nothing  to  the  new-comers  about  the  trials 
and  tribulations  and  the  "  valley  of  humiliation  "  which  they 
would  be  pretty  sure  to  find  before  them  when  the}T  came  to 
Dr.  Mason's  searching  examination  and  work,  to  say  nothing 
of  what  would  happen  to  them  if  their  voices  or  style  of 
singing  were  out  of  true.  It  was  interesting  to  see  how  their 
self-assertion  began  to  fade  out  under  the  criticisms  of  the 
teachers'  class,  or  when  they  and  all  in  the  voice  class  could 
see  that  the  tone  they  had  been  producing  was  wrong. 

It  was  very  hard  for  some  of  them  at  first  to  refrain  from 
standing  on  their  dignity  and  arguing  the  matter,  but  a  few 
words  from  Dr.  Mason  on  the  attitude  that  the  true  learner 
assumes  soon  opened  their  eyes.  He  was  very  fond  of  say- 
ing: "Except  ye  become  as  little  children,  ye  can  not  enter 
into  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  nor  the  kingdom  of  sound,  nor 
any  other  kingdom."  He  used  also  to  say:  "Do  not  waste 
time  in  argument.  You  are  here  to  get  what  we  have  to 
give  you.     Take  what  you  think  will  be  useful ;  what  you 


Il6  THF,   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

think  will  not  be,  you  can  reject  without  saying  anything 
about  it."  It  was  very  common  to  see  the  self-satisfied  faces 
of  this  kind  of  new-comers  change,  first  to  perplexity,  then 
to  anxiety,  and  finally  to  discouragement.  They  were  almost 
certain  then  to  say :  "  We  thought  we  knew  something  about 
music  and  teaching  when  we  came,  but  now  we  see  we  did 
not  know  anything  worth  speaking  of."  Then  they  were 
told  that  they  had  learned  the  hardest  and  most  important 
lesson  of  the  session,  and  from  the  valley  the  way  would 
now  be  pleasant  to  the  sunlight.  Dr.  Mason  often  said  what 
he  continually  exemplified :  "  Do  not  be  afraid  to  say  '  I  do 
not  know.'  The  teacher  who  says  that  to  his  class  will  al- 
ways be  believed  when  he  says  he  does  know.  Nothing  is 
so  dangerous  to  a  teacher's  reputation  as  conceit,  and  nothing 
so  shuts  him  out  from  progress." 

All  sorts  of  people  came  to  see  us  during  those  summer 
sessions.  Sometimes  it  was  one  of  Dr.  Mason's  co-workers 
in  general  education,  and  sometimes  musical  celebrities,  na- 
tive or  foreign.  Of  the  former,  Governor  Boutwell  and  Mr. 
Wm.  Russell,  the  foremost  elocutionist  of  those  days,  were 
prominent.  These  men  gave  the  class  many  valuable  ideas, 
as  well  as  much  enjoyment.  A  very  pleasant  gentleman 
was  Mr.  Littleton,  one  of  the  firm  of  Novello  &  Co.,  of  Lon- 
don, who  had  met  Dr.  Mason  in  England,  and,  being  in  this 
country,  strayed  up  to  our  little  town  to  give  him  a  call. 

I  took  a  great  deal  of  interest  in  those  days  in  the  success 
of  my  cantatas,  which  had  become  so  unexpectedly  popular. 
But  I  remember  once  thinking  that  Justice  was  not  the  even- 
handed  female  she  was  represented  to  be,  when  a  gentleman 
came  during  one  of  our  sessions  to  talk  with  me,  as  he  said, 
about  "The  Flower  Queen."  He  was  from  New  England 
somewhere,  but  had  been  teaching  in  St.  Louis,  and  wound 
up  his  year's  work  by  giving  that  little  work.  He  said:  "  I 
have  come  some  miles  out  of  my  way  to  tell  you  that  I  have 


THE    STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE.  117 

just  cleared  a  thousand  dollars  by  two  performances  of  your 
'  Flower  Queen  '  in  St.  Louis,  and  the  money  is  here  in  my 
pocket."  Then  he  went  on  to  describe  the  decorations  of 
the  hall,  the  enthusiasm  of  the  audience,  etc.  "  How  many 
singers  did  you  have?"  I  asked.  "Nearly  two  hundred." 
"  How  many  books  did  you  use?"  "  Oh,  they  had  to  com- 
mit everything  to  memory,  so  I  taught  the  choruses  by  rote. 
I  did  not  need  many  books — perhaps  nine  or  ten."  He 
spoke  of  that  as  also  a  matter  of  credit  to  himself  and  of 
pleasant  interest  to  me.  It  evidently  did  not  occur  to  him 
that,  while  he  had  made  a  thousand  dollars,  the  author  of 
the  work  had  realized  the  munificent  sum  of  sixty  cents,  or 
thereabout,  as  his  share  of  the  profits.  I  became  used  to 
that  after  a  while,  but  this  first  experience  made  a  strong 
impression  upon  my  mind.  A  law  was  passed  a  year  or 
two  later  which  enabled  an  author  to  control  the  perform- 
ance of  such  works,  if  he  chose  to  take  advantage  of  it.  I 
tried  it  awhile  with  "  The  Haymakers,"  but  it  was  more 
trouble  than  it  was  worth  to  enforce  it,  and  I  soon  gave  up 
the  effort. 

How  true  it  is  that  it  is  only  those  laws  which  are  upheld 
by  public  opinion  that  are  of  real  use  to  us;  or,  in  other 
words,  it  is  only  those  rights  that  our  neighbors  say  are  ours 
that  we  can  make  available. 

The  New  England  boy  of  fifty  years  ago  remembers  that 
many  of  the  natural  products  of  the  old  farm — berries,  nuts, 
wild  fruits,  etc. — were  practically  common  property.  The 
neighbors  helped  themselves  to  them  as  freely  as  they  drank 
the  water  of  the  springs  or  breathed  the  air  of  the  pastures. 
Their  owners  had  as  undoubted  rights  to  their  berries  as  to 
their  corn,  potatoes  or  bank  notes,  and  often  wished  to  ex- 
ercise those  rights,  but  custom  and  public  opinion  did  not 
admit  them,  and  they  were  helpless — unless,  indeed,  they 
went  to  law,  which  the  average  citizen  would  rather  suffer 


Il8  THE    STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

than  do.  After  a  while  the  cranberry  began  to  have  a  mer- 
chantable value,  and  slowly  public  opinion  changed,  until  at 
last  it  accorded  to  owners  the  same  rights  to  their  cranberry 
meadows  that  they  had  to  their  corn-fields ;  but  to  this  day 
it  is  not  considered  half  so  bad  to  gather  nuts  and  huckle- 
berries without  the  owner's  knowledge  and  consent  as  it  is 
to  take  his  corn  or  money. 

So  it  was  in  early  days  in  regard  to  music.  We  had 
each  other's  compositions  for  the  asking,  rather  considering 
that  we  were  complimenting  the  author  by  using  them.  We 
did  not  consider  that  we  might  be  placing  an  author's  works 
in  injurious  competition  with  himself,  and  that  by  advertising 
his  music  in  our  books  we  were  seizing  upon  his  "good- 
will "  for  our  advantage.  It  is  better  now,  though  the  rights 
to  musical  property  are  not  yet  as  clearly  defined  as  to  more 
tangible  things. 

The  prominent  singers  of  Boston  visited  the  Normal  at 
North  Reading  occasionally,  but  I  do  not  recall  any  name 
that  would  be  of  special  interest,  unless  it  would  be  that  of 
a  large,  quiet  young  man,  who  was  then  just  beginning  his 
musical  studies,  and  who,  with  his  teacher,  a  prominent 
choir  leader  in  Boston,  passed  part  of  a  day  with  us.  No- 
body dreamed  that  that  modest  and  farmer-like  person 
would  become  America's  greatest  basso,  but  so  it  was  to  be. 
I  presume  I  hardly  need  mention  the  name  of  Myron  W. 
Whitney. 

We  had  many  invitations,  on  one  pretext  or  another,  to 
go  to  neighboring  towns  and  sing.  Carriages  would  be  sent 
for  us,  and  we  should  be  treated  like  princes,  if  we  would 
consent.  It  was  pretty  hard  to  resist  the  pressure  from  the 
inviters  on  the  one  side  and  the  invited  on  the  other,  for  a 
majority  of  the  class  wrere  always  ready  for  an  outing  of 
that  sort.  But  we  feared  the  breaking  in  upon  our  work 
and  the  distraction  that  such  excursions  would  cause,  and 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  119 

consented  but  once.  That  was  at  a  "commencement''  of 
the  Andover  Theological  Seminary.  The  professors  were 
great  friends  of  Dr.  Mason,  and  when  they  urged  us  to  do 
them  this  favor  we  yielded.  The  procession  of  all  sorts  of 
conveyances  that  took  us  the  seven  miles,  up  and  down 
half  a  dozen  hills  to  the  mile,  our  prairie  friends  will  never 
forget.  It  is  said  that  the  name  Andover  came  from  the 
description  people  gave  of  the  way  there  from  every  point — 
"  over  andover  andover  the  hills." 

I  doubt  if  such  a  chorus  as  we  then  had  is  ever  heard 
where  people  only  meet  for  practice  once  or  twice  a  week. 
In  the  first  place,  they  were  practically  picked  voices.  The 
people  who  came  to  us  had  generally  taken  to  music  as  a 
business  because  they  were  especially  gifted  by  nature  in 
that  way.  Then  the  daily  practice  of  the  chorus  for  so 
many  weeks  produced  a  blending  and  unanimity  that  can 
not  be  reached  in  any  other  way. 

The  commencement  exercises  were  in  the  largest  church 
there,  and  Mr.  Webb  played  the  organ.  We  sang  mostly 
"  Messiah "  choruses,  but  a  number  from  the  cantata  of 
"  Daniel."  "  How  lovely  is  Zion  "  came  in  for  a  large  share 
of  admiration,  chiefly,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  because  the  solo 
was  sung  by  the  best  woman  that  I  have  ever  had  the  pleas- 
ure of  being  acquainted  with.  This  was  the  first  time  that 
the  Normal  ever  sang  away  from  home,  unless  upon  some 
of  our  Saturday  excursions  to  Swan  Pond,  or  some  other 
picnic  ground. 


120  THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE. 


CHAPTER   XL 

[S59-1861,  NORTH  READING  AND  CHICAGO — PROMINENT  MEM- 
BERS OF  THE  NORMAL  INSTITUTE  —  WRITING  AT  WILLOW 
FARM — OUR  SIMPLE  MUSIC  IN  ENGLAND — ROOT  AND  CADY — 
THE  CURRENCY  —  THE  GREATER  THE  REFINEMENT,  THE 
SMALLER  THE  COIN — CHICAGO  IN  1 858 — THE  "CAMERADE- 
RIE  "  IN  A  NEW  COUNTRY — CONVENTIONS  ON  THE  PRAIRIE — 
LAND  SHARKS — FIRST  ORGAN  BOOK — THE  FIRST  GUN  OF  THE 
WAR. 


T] 


^HE  Normal  continued  its  sessions  in  North  Reading 
until  1859,  and  among  its  members  up  to  this  time 
were  Geo.  B.  Loomis,  for  some  years  superintendent  of  mu- 
sic in  the  public  schools  of  Indianapolis,  Theodore  E.  Per- 
kins, T.  M.  Towne,  Chester  G.  Allen,  J.  M.  North,  authors 
and  convention  conductors,  and  Luther  W.  Mason,  for  a 
long  time  prominent  in  the  primary  department  of  the 
public  schools  of  Boston  as  musical  superintendent  and 
principal  teacher.  A  few  years  ago  this  Mr.  Mason  went 
to  Japan,  by  the  invitation  of  the  Japanese  government,  to 
inaugurate  there  the  system  of  teaching  music  to  children 
that  had  been  in  use  in  the  Boston  schools.  He  remained 
in  Tokio  about  two  years,  if  I  remember  rightly. 

Another  member  of  the  North  Reading  Normal  was 
Theo.  F.  Seward,  the  present  energetic  leader  of  the  tonic- 
sol-fa  movement  in  America.  Have  you  ever  received  a 
letter  from  Mr.  Seward,  or  read  one  of  his  editorials,  when 
he  had  his  war-paint  on  for  tonic-sol-fa  ?  If  so,  did  not  the 
handwriting  of  the  one,  or  the  sledge-hammer  blows  of  the 
other,  give  you  the  idea  that  he  was  a  giant  in  size,  with  the 


THE   STORY   OF  A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  I  2  I 

voice  of  a  stentor?  Then  have  you  met  him  afterward?  If 
so,  you  found  a  rather  small,  delicate-looking  man,  with  a 
soft  voice  and  a  sweet  smile,  with  gentle  and  refined  man- 
ners, and  one  of  the  kindest  hearts  in  the  world — in  most 
respects  probably  entirely  different  from  your  idea.  I  ad- 
mire Mr.  Seward  greatly,  but  this  contrast  between  his 
strong,  aggressive  work  and  his  gentle  ways  has  always  to 
me  a  humorous  side. 

Two  other  members  of  the  Normal  Institute  in  those 
days,  of  whom  I  shall  have  occasion  to  speak  more  at 
length  later,  were  James  R.  Murray,  the  present  editor  of 
The  Musical  Visitor,  and  Chauncey  M.  Wyman,  from  Keene, 
N.  H.,  then  just  beginning  his  musical  career. 

I  can  not  name  all  the  Normals  who  were  successful 
in  their  work,  for  that  would  include  nearly  every  member 
from  the  first  session  up  to  the  time  of  which  I  am  writ- 
ing. They  were  invariably  the  strong  men  and  women  of 
their  widely  varied  localities,  and  their  new  equipments  of 
methods  of  teaching  and  singing  gave  them  great  popular- 
ity and  success. 

My  time  now,  from  Normal  to  Normal,  was  passed  in 
writing  at  Willow  Farm  or  in  conducting  musical  conven- 
tions in  various  parts  of  the  country.  I  could  easily  have 
occupied  every  week  of  the  year  in  the  latter  work,  Mr. 
Bradbury  and  I  being  almost  the  only  prominent  people  in 
it  for  a  while.  Dr.  Mason  was  occasionally  tempted  to  con- 
duct some  of  the  larger  gatherings  in  New  England,  but 
he  confined  his  outside  work  in  those  days  mostly  to  the 
Normal.  Mr.  Webb  was  also  fully  occupied  with  work  in 
Boston,  which  he  rarely  left,  but  there  was  now  a  constant 
pressure  for  a  book,  or  a  cantata,  or  songs,  so  I  spent  about 
half  the  time  at  my  desk.  I  now  began  to  hear  from  Mr. 
Curwen,  the  elder.  He  had  found  my  little  lessons  and 
part-songs   for  singing  classes    helpful    in   his   tonic-sol-fa 


122  THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE. 

enterprise  in  England,  and  wrote  very  kind  and  appreciative 
letters  of  acknowledgment  for  the  same.  He  was  accus- 
tomed to  say,  "  We  have  in  England  plenty  of  high-class 
music,  and  more  than  enough  of  the  Captain  Jinks  kind  of 
songs,  but  there  is  a  wholesome  middle-ground  in  regard  to 
both  words  and  music  in  which  you  in  America  greatly  ex- 
cel,"' and  soon  my  cantatas  and  songs  were  issued  there  to 
an  extent  that  I  was  not  fully  aware  of  until  a  recent  visit, 
when  I  saw  the  list  of  them  in  the  catalogue  of  the  British 
Museum;  but  I  will  speak  more  fully  of  that  further  on. 
My  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Curwen,  thus  commenced,  was 
kept  up  by  correspondence  until  his  death,  and  every  year 
revealed  to  me  more  and  more  of  his  noble  and  beautiful 
character. 

These  were  ideal  days — writing  until  noon,  and  then 
driving  to  a  neighboring  town,  or  fishing  in  some  of  the 
pretty  ponds  that  were  all  about  us.  The  favorite  fishing 
ground  was  a  little  lake  in  North  Andover,  about  eight 
miles  away,  and  many  a  time  have  we  spent  until  dark, 
after  our  return,  distributing  to  the  neighbors  the  surplus 
fish  of  our  afternoon's  catch. 

In  1858  my  brother,  E.  T.  Root,  and  Mr.  C.  M.  Cady 
started  a  music  business  in  Chicago — nearly  the  "far  west" 
in  those  days — under  the  firm  name  of  Root  &  Cady.  My 
convention  work  brought  me  occasionally  to  their  neighbor- 
hood, and  it  was  an  odd  and  very  pleasant  sensation  to  find 
in  this  new  section  a  kind  of  business  home.  This  was  not 
so  much  on  account  of  the  small  pecuniary  interest  I  had  in 
the  enterprise  as  the  great  interest  I  took  in  everything  my 
brother  did.  This  brother  and  myself  were  nearly  of  the 
same  age.  We  had  been  much  together  all  our  lives.  He  had 
married  the  lovely  "  Lily"  of  the  Rutgers  Institute  "  Flower 
Queen,"  and  was  now  preparing  for  himself  a  home  in  the 
comparatively  new  city  of  Chicago.     So,  whatever  applica- 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  1 23 

tions  for  conventions  I  declined,  none  from  the  West  were 
refused,  and  I  appeared  more  and  more  frequently  at  the 
little  store. 

It  was  very  pleasant  to  see  the  new  business  grow,  and 
it  was  not  long  before  the  partners  said  :  "  Come,  put  in 
some  more  capital,  and  join  us ;  we  need  the  capital,  and 
your  name  will  help  us."  I  was  delighted  with  the  idea, 
not  that  I  thought  of  giving  up  my  professional  work — 
I  did  not  dream  of  that,  nor  of  living  in  Chicago ;  but  to 
have  this  connection  with  my  brother,  and  this  business  for 
a  kind  of  recreation,  was  extremely  attractive.  So  it  was 
soon  brought  about,  and  I  became  a  partner  in  the  house 
of  Root  &  Cady. 

Some  things  that  I  came  in  contact  with  in  those  days 
are  worth  speaking  of.  One  is  the  currency.  Not  only  you 
could  not  use  an  Illinois  bank  note  in  New  England,  but  in 
going  from  Boston  to  New  York,  or  vice  versa,  you  had  to 
change  your  money  into  that  of  the  state  to  which  you  were 
going.  A  bank  note  of  either  city  would  be  closely  scrutin- 
ized in  the  other,  and  only  taken  at  a  discount.  As  for  a 
western  bank  note  I  might  almost  say  it  would  not  be  taken 
in  the  East  at  any  price.  So  the  returns  of  my  western  con- 
ventions were  always  carried  home  in  gold,  which  it  was 
sometimes  hard  to  get. 

To  those  to  whom  this  seems  strange,  in  the  presence  of 
our  present  national  currency,  it  may  be  of  interest  to  say 
that  I  remember  well  when  there  were  no  such  things  as 
dimes  and  half-dimes,  but,  instead,  the  smallest  silver  coins 
were  in  New  England  "nine-pence"  (12^2  cents),  and  "four- 
pence-half-penny  "  (6%  cents).  In  New  York  the  same  coins 
were  called  "  shilling "  and  "six-pence."  That  came  from 
the  plan  of  having  a  succession  of  half  values  from  the  dol- 
lar— 50  cts.,  25,  12^2,  and  6%.  Then  there  were  cents  and 
half  cents,  which  were  large  copper  coins. 


124  THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

It  is  not  wonderful  that  the  trouble  the  fractions  caused 
compelled  the  present  excellent  decimal  plan.  For  a  year  or 
two  perhaps  after  dimes  came  in,  a  difference  in  value  was 
made  between  the  io-cent  piece  and  the  12}^ -cent  piece, 
(and  the  5  and  6%)  but  that  difference  was  so  troublesome 
that  either  by  a  law  or  by  common  consent  it  was  ultimately 
given  up  and  both  were  put  on  a  level.  Then  the  old  coins, 
as  if  mortified  and  disgusted  at  being  undervalued,  retired 
from  public  life.  For  a  few  years  a  stray  one,  looking  lonely 
and  antiquated  by  the  side  of  the  bright,  new  usurper,  would 
occasionally  be  seen,  but  they  are  all  gone  now,  excepting 
the  few,  perhaps,  that  are  in  the  hands  of  the  old  coin  col- 
lectors. 

The  eagerness  with  which  gold  and  silver  were  sought  in 
those  times  of  trouble  with  bank  notes  made  people  anxious 
and  interested  in  a  high  degree  in  regard  to  the  resumption 
of  specie  payment,  which  was  suspended  during  the  war 
and  for  a  time  afterward.  How  good  the  gold  and  silver 
looked  in  prospect!  But  when  the  time  for  resumption 
came,  everybody  waked  to  the  fact  that  one  need  of  the  old 
times  was  entirely  gone.  The  new  national  banking  system 
was  in  successful  operation,  and  the  national  bank  note  of 
one  state  was  just  as  good  in  other  states  as  at  home,  and  at 
the  resumption  those  who  at  first  loaded  themselves  with 
coin  soon  found  that  bank  notes  were  far  more  convenient 
to  carry,  and  now  that  they  were  just  as  "good  as  gold," 
were  much  to  be  preferred  for  the  ordinary  uses  of  business. 
So  the  millions  in  coin  that  were  made  ready  to  redeem  the 
national  bank  notes  were  practically  untouched,  and  re- 
sumption, excepting  as  it  established  the  value  of  bank 
notes,  was  something  of  a  farce.  It  was  a  pretty  clear  case 
of  the  old  story  of  the  foreigner  and  the  shaky  bank  :  "  If  you 
can  pay  me,  I  don't  want  it ;  but  if  you  can't  pay,  I  must 
have  it." 


THE   STORY    OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  1 25 

It  was  curious  to  observe,  when  specie  payment  was 
suspended,  how  soon  all  the  little  coins,  as  well  as  the  large 
ones,  fled  to  hiding  places.  Then  what  trouble  for  change  ! 
But  that  seemed  the  beginning  of  success  for  the  horse-car 
lines,  then  recently  established  in  Chicago.  People  had  not 
become  used  to  them ;  they  had  not  been  well  patronized, 
and  were  looking  rather  discouraged — horses,  cars  and  rails. 
Then  the  company  issued  five-cent  tickets,  which  were  used 
for  change,  not  only  on  the  cars  but  in  the  stores,  and 
people  having  a  good  many  of  these  tickets  in  their  pockets 
doubled  or  trebled  their  car-riding  and  set  the  enterprise  on 
its  feet. 

Then  came  that  most  excellent  scheme — the  government 
fractional  currency — so  neat  to  carry,  so  very  convenient  to 
send  by  mail ;  in  fact,  as  much  better  in  every  way  for  ordi- 
nary business  than  the  small  coin,  as  bank  notes  are  better 
than  silver  dollars.  They  would  have  all  the  advantage  now 
that  they  had  then,  and  their  wearing  out  and  loss  by  fire, 
and  in  other  ways,  would  be  a  large  revenue  to  the  govern- 
ment ;  but  the  comparatively  few  men  who  sell  silver  for 
coinage  are  powerful  enough  to  deprive  us  of  these  advan- 
tages, even  in  the  face  of  the  hoarded  millions  of  silver  dol- 
lars that  can  not  be  forced  out  among  the  people. 

An  amusing  little  incident  comes  to  my  mind  in  connec- 
tion with  this  fractional  currency.  It  was  several  years  that 
there  were  practically  no  coins  in  Chicago — time  enough  for 
a  small  merchant  in  newspapers  to  establish  a  flourishing 
business  without  ever  having  seen  one.  He  came  into  the 
car  to  sell  his  evening  papers,  and  a  Californian,  sitting  next 
to  me,  took  one  and  gave  him  a  silver  half  dime.  The  little 
fellow  looked  at  it,  and  at  the  man,  and  supposing  that  it 
was  a  joke  that  was  being  played  upon  him,  thrust  the  coin 
back,  seized  his  paper  and  ran  out  of  the  car.  He  did  not 
know  that  the  little  silver  disk  was  money.    All  the  five-cent 


126  THE    STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE. 

piece  he  knew  was  the  little  paper  note  for  that  amount, 
bearing  the  government  stamp. 

Speaking  of  the  five-cent  newspaper  brings  to  my  mind 
the  fact  that  for  years  after  I  came  to  Chicago  there  were 
no  copper  coins  here.  The  smallest  sum  that  you  could 
use  in  paying  was  five  cents.  Several  efforts  to  start  penny 
or  two-cent  papers  failed  because  there  were  no  pennies  to 
pay  with,  and,  of  course,  no  change  for  a  five-cent  piece. 
This  fact  with  regard  to  new  sections  of  our  country  is 
well  known,  but  the  deduction  from  that  fact  may  not  be 
so  readily  thought  of,  namely,  that  where  such  business 
conditions  exist,  society  is  in  a  crude  and  not  in  a  refined 
state.  It  is  an  axiom  that  the  higher  the  refinement  in 
business  transactions  the  smaller  the  coin.  While  in  Chi- 
cago a  half  dime  was  the  smallest,  in  Boston  and  New  York 
the  cent  was  in  common  use,  in  London  the  half  penny, 
and  in  Paris  the  sou,  and  even  the  centime.  But  Chicago 
has  greatly  improved.  At  the  present  time  we  are  refined 
enough  to  have  excellent  penny  and  two-cent  papers,  and 
no  reputable  citizen  now  goes  about  without  copper  coins 
in  his  pocket. 

Looking  upon  the  solid  and  magnificent  streets  and  drives 
of  Chicago  to-day,  it  is  hard  to  realize  their  condition  in  1858. 
The  first  level  of  the  city  was  but  little  above  the  lake,  and 
it  was  not  until  some  large  buildings  and  blocks  of  brick  and 
stone  had  been  erected  that  it  was  seen  that  at  that  level  there 
could  be  no  proper  drainage,  and  that  the  city — buildings 
and  streets — must  be  raised  several  feet.  This  process  was 
going  on  when  we  came.  In  all  the  principal  thoroughfares 
some  of  the  buildings  were  at  the  new  level  and  some  at  the 
old,  and  progress  through  them  on  the  side-walk  was  a  con- 
stant succession  of  up  and  down  stairs.  Many  of  the  streets 
were  yet  unpaved,  and  although  not  so  bad  as  a  few  years 
before,  when  in  muddy  weather  the  ladies  had  to  be  backed 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   UFE.  127 

up  to  the  stores  on  carts,  the  horses  or  oxen  wading  knee- 
deep  in  mud,  still  they  were  sometimes  almost  impassable. 
Wood,  gravel,  stone,  and  brick  all  being  so  far  away  it  was 
slow  and  costly  work  to  make  the  improvements  required 
by  the  peculiar  location  of  this  extraordinary  city.  After 
the  fire,  the  opportunity  was  taken  to  raise  the  grade  still 
higher  in  rebuilding,  so  that  now  it  is  entirely  satisfactory  in 
that  respect. 

The  camaraderie,  or  "hail  fellow  well  met"  feeling  in  a 
new  country  is  one  of  its  most  striking  features.  People 
from  different  social  grades  in  the  older  settled  places  of  the 
East  meet  here  on  a  level.  Social  distinctions  are  in  no- 
body's way,  for  there  are  none,  and  the  best  man  wins.  One 
of  my  early  conventions  in  the  West  was  in  such  a  commu- 
nity. On  one  of  Illinois'  great  prairies,  where  eighteen 
months  before  there  was  but  a  railroad  shanty,  there  were 
now  fifteen  hundred  people. 

They  were  all  young  and  energetic — just  the  kind  to  leave 
the  quieter  East  and  enjoy  the  excitement  of  starting  a  new 
town.  An  unusual  proportion  were  from  cities  where  they 
had  been  members  of  choirs  and  musical  societies,  and  they 
thought  a  musical  convention  in  the  midst  of  their  bustle 
and  building  would  be  a  pleasant  novelty.  We  held  our 
sessions  in  a  hall  over  a  large  store,  and  our  final  concert  in 
an  unfinished  church  edifice,  seats  being  improvised  of  the 
building  material  for  the  occasion.  A  few  "prairie  schoon- 
ers" (as  certain  long  wagons  were  called)  brought  singers 
from  distant  prairie  homes,  and  a  few  came  on  the  railroad 
from  places  still  farther  away,  but  from  the  town  itself  was 
a  larger  proportion  of  cultivated  and  refined  singers  than 
I  ever  found  in  a  country  convention  at  the  East.  L,.W. 
Wheeler,  who  has  been  for  some  years  one  of  Boston's  most 
popular  voice  teachers,  was  one  of  the  tenors  of  that  conven- 
tion, and,  although  just  beginning  then,  gave  unmistakable 


128  THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

signs  of  the  voice  and  talent  which  have  since  made  him  so 
successful. 

This  town  was  Kewanee,  now  one  of  our  finest  inland 
places.  I  was  laughing  at  one  of  the  men  of  that  convention 
about  the  way  they  were  hurrying  up  their  houses,  when 
he  said:  "Oh,  that's  nothing  to  the  way  they  did  at  first  in 
Chicago.  There  a  man  would  say  to  the  only  carpenter  they 
had,  '  I  believe  I'll  settle  here ;  when  can  you  build  me  a 
house  ? '  and  the  answer  would  be,  '  Well,  there's  Smith, 
Monday;  Jones,  Tuesday;  Brown,  Wednesday;  Johnson, 
Thursday;  I'll  put  yours  up  Friday.'  "  Of  course  this  was 
all  burlesque,  but  it  does  not  give  a  bad  idea  of  the  way 
things  are  done  while  people  are  roughing  it  in  a  new 
country. 

I  have  often  thought  that  a  romance  might  be  written, 
embodying  some  of  the  early  real  estate  transactions  of  Chi- 
cago that  would  be  of  intense  interest.  The  only  trouble 
would  be  that  some  of  the  events  would  be  considered  too 
extravagant  even  for  fiction.  One  story  is  told  of  an  emi- 
grant— a  Hollander,  who,  with  his  family,  landed  in  Chicago 
from  a  sailing  craft  before  the  first  railroad  had  reached  so 
far,  and  was  immediately  set  upon  by  "  land  sharks,"  as  some 
of  the  early  real  estate  dealers  were  called,  and  finally  per- 
suaded to  give  six  hundred  dollars  for  some  low  land  by  the 
river  that  would  then  have  been  considered  dear  at  one-fifth 
the  price.  Some  of  the  less  hardened  of  the  real  estate 
brotherhood  were  disposed  to  protest  against  the  outrageous 
swindle,  but  the  old  fellow  seemed  satisfied.  He  took  some 
gold  and  silver  from  his  pouch  and  leather  belt,  and  his  wife 
and  children  cut  out  coins  that  had  been  sewed  up  in  their 
clothing,  and  he  paid  the  money.  He  put  up  a  shanty  at 
once,  and  then  commenced  preparing  his  land  for  vegetables 
by  processes  that  he  had  been  familiar  with  at  home.  His 
wife  and  children  helped.     He  sold  his  produce  readily,  and 


THE   STORY   OP   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  1 29 

had  no  difficulty  in  getting  a  living  after  his  fashion.  Pretty 
soon  people  began  to  build  around  him,  and  he  was  occasion- 
ally asked  if  he  did  not  want  to  sell  his  place.  No ;  what 
should  he  want  to  sell  for  ? — he  would  only  have  to  go  and 
get  another  place  for  a  vegetable  garden,  and  that  was  too 
much  trouble.  By  and  by  the  pressure  grew  stronger,  and 
the  offers  got  up  into  the  thousands.  No ;  he  had  built  a 
frame  house  now,  and  wasn't  going  to  move.  Then  the 
increased  taxes,  and  some  assessments  for  town  improve- 
ments were  too  much  for  his  little  savings,  and  he  sold  a 
small  end  of  his  domain.  But  this  brought  him  so  much 
money  that  the  surplus  made  him  feel  that  he  should  never 
need  any  more,  so  he  resisted  all  offers  and  importunities, 
and  kept  on  with  his  vegetable  garden  as  long  as  he  lived. 
Then  his  heirs  sold  the  place  for  nearly  a  million  dollars. 

This  playing  at  business  (for  I  did  nothing  of  the  buying 
or  selling),  and  the  new  and  adventurous  life  of  Chicago  were 
so  attractive  to  me  that  early  in  1859  I  took  a  room  in  the 
building  in  which  the  store  was,  and  occupied  it  as  a  library 
and  working-room  between  convention  engagements.  Not 
long  before,  Mr.  Henry  Mason,  the  youngest  brother  of  my 
publishers,  had  formed  a  copartnership  with  Mr.  Hamlin, 
under  the  firm  name  of  Mason  &  Hamlin,  for  the  manufact- 
ure of  melodeons.  They  prospered,  and  soon  called  their 
larger  instruments  harmoniums,  and  not  long  after,  cabinet 
organs.  Some  time  in  1862  the  Masons  asked  me  if  I  thought 
I  could  make  an  instruction  book  for  these  instruments.  I 
said  I  would  try,  and  the  result  was  "The  School  for  the 
Harmonium  and  Cabinet  Organ."  This  was  my  first  work 
of  importance  in  my  new  quarters.  It  was  published  by 
Mason  Brothers,  and  had  a  large  sale.  It  inaugurated  a 
much  better  graded  method  than  any  previous  book  had 
contained,  and  I  have  sometimes  thought  that  the  copyright 
laws  would  be  more  just  if  they  included  the  plan  as  well  as 


130  THE   STORY   OF  A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

the  contents  of  a  book  of  that  kind.  But  there  being  no 
such  protection,  my  plan  has  been  generally  adopted  by 
reed  organ  instructors  ever  since. 

In  i860  the  Normal  was  held  in  Chicago,  Dr.  Mason,  Mr. 
Bradbury,  and  myself  principal  teachers.  By  this  time  other 
Normals  were  started  by  those  who  had  been  with  us,  and 
we  no  longer  occupied  the  entire  field.  Still,  the  interest  in 
that  kind  of  school  having  increased,  our  attendance  con- 
tinued to  be  large.  I  have  no  list  of  that  class,  but  I  recall 
that  among  its  successful  members  was  N.  Coe  Stewart,  the 
present  superintendent  of  music  in  the  public  schools  of 
Cleveland,  Ohio. 

My  family  was  still  at  Willow  Farm,  excepting  F.  W., 
who  was  now  old  enough  to  be  away  at  boarding  school,  and 
I  had  no  thought,  yet,  of  another  home.  However,  the  little 
business  was  improving  and  I  enjoyed  more  and  more  being 
in  the  neighborhood  of  its  small  whirl.  I  might,  perhaps, 
have  foreseen  that  if  it  continued  to  increase,  the  wrhirl  might 
eventually  grow  large  enough  to  include  me  in  its  round  of 
hard  and  confining  work,  but  I  did  not.  I  went  and  came 
— was  free  to  work  in  my  pleasant  room  or  to  be  off  at  con- 
ventions, now  in  New  England,  now  in  New  York  or  Penn- 
sylvania, or  the  West — not  a  moment  hung  heavily  on  my 
hands.  Then  we  began  to  publish  a  little.  First  a  song  or 
two,  and  some  instrumental  pieces  in  sheet  form.  After  a 
while  we  decided  to  venture  on  a  book,  and  put  in  hand  one 
that  I  was  then  working  on  for  day-schools ;  but  now  the 
War  burst  upon  us  ! 

What  a  change  came  over  the  whole  country  when  that 
momentous  event  was  announced !  How  the  bustling,  cheery 
life  of  Chicago  became  suddenly  grave  and  serious.  With 
what  different  eyes  we  saw  everything  about  us.  It  was  not 
the  same  sunshine  that  made  the  city  so  bright  yesterday, 
and  these  were  not  the  same  faces  of  neighbors  that  then 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  131 

nodded  so  light-heartedly  as  they  passed.  The  old  flag  had 
been  fired  upon,  and  that  act  had  waked  into  stern  deter- 
mination the  patriotism  of  every  loyal  heart. 


132  THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

1 86 1- 1 870,  CHICAGO — WRITING  THE  WAR  SONGS — SOME  INCI- 
DENTS CONCERNING  THEM — HENRY  C.  WORK — P.  P.  BLISS — 
"THE  SONG  MESSENGER  OF  THE  NORTH-WEST" — THE  ORI- 
GIN OF  "TRAMP" — GROWTH  OF  BUSINESS — JAMES  R.  MUR- 
RAY AND  "  DAISY  DEANE  " — B.  R.  HANBY — CARYL  FLORIO — 
DR.  MASON'S  LAST  NORMAL — THE  NORMAL  AT  SOUTH  BEND, 
IND. — THE  ORIGIN  OF  "  NATIONAL  NORMAL  " — CARLO  BAS- 
SINI. 

IN  common  with  my  neighbors  I  felt  strongly  the  gravity 
of  the  situation,  and  while  waiting  to  see  what  would  be 
done,  wrote  the  first  song  of  the  war.  It  was  entitled  "  The 
first  gun  is  fired,  may  God  protect  the  right."  Then  at  every 
event,  and  in  all  the  circumstances  that  followed,  where  I 
thought  a  song  would  be  welcome,  I  wrote  one.  And  here 
I  found  my  fourteen  years  of  extemporizing  melodies  on  the 
blackboard,  before  classes  that  could  be  kept  in  order  only  by 
prompt  and  rapid  movements,  a  great  advantage.  Such  work 
as  I  could  do  at  all  I  could  do  quickly.  There  was  no  wait- 
ing for  a  melody.  Such  as  it  was  it  came  at  once,  as  when 
I  stood  before  the  blackboard  in  the  old  school  days: 

I  heard  of  President  Lincoln's  second  call  for  troops  one 
afternoon  while  reclining  on  a  lounge  in  my  brother's  house. 
Immediately  a  song  started  in  my  mind,  words  and  music 
together : 

"  Yes,  we'll  rally  round  the  flag,  boys,  we'll  rally  once  again, 
Shouting  the  battle-cry  of  freedom  !  " 

I  thought  it  out  that  afternoon,  and  wrote  it  the  next  morn- 
ing at  the  store.     The  ink  was  hardly  dry  when  the  Iyum- 


THE    STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  1 33 

bard  brothers — the  great  singers  of  the  war — came  in  for 
something  to  sing  at  a  war  meeting  that  was  to  be  holden 
immediately  in  the  court-house  square  just  opposite.  They 
went  through  the  new  song  once,  and  then  hastened  to  the 
steps  of  the  court-house,  followed  by  a  crowd  that  had  gath- 
ered while  the  practice  was  going  on.  Then  Jule's  magnif- 
icent voice  gave  out  the  song,  and  Frank's  trumpet  tones 
led  the  refrain — 

"  The  Union  forever,  hurrah,  boys,  hurrah !  " 

and  at  the  fourth  verse  a  thousand  voices  were  joining  in  the 
chorus.  From  there  the  song  went  into  the  army,  and  the 
testimony  in  regard  to  its  use  in  the  camp  and  on  the  march, 
and  even  on  the  field  of  battle,  from  soldiers  and  officers,  up 
to  generals,  and  even  to  the  good  President  himself,  made 
me  thankful  that  if  I  could  not  shoulder  a  musket  in  defense 
of  my  country  I  could  serve  her  in  this  way. 

Many  interesting  war  incidents  were  connected  with 
these  songs.  The  one  that  moved  me  most  was  told  by  an 
officer  who  was  in  one  of  the  battles  during  the  siege  of 
Vicksburg.  He  said  an  Iowa  regiment  went  into  the  fight 
eight  hundred  strong,  and  came  out  with  a  terrible  loss  of 
more  than  half  their  number ;  but  the  brave  fellows  who  re- 
mained were  waving  their  torn  and  powder-stained  banner, 
and  singing 

"Yes,  we'll  rally  round  the  flag,  boys." 

Some  years  after,  at  the  closing  concert  of  a  musical  conven- 
tion in  Anamosa,  Iowa,  I  received  a  note,  saying,  "  If  the 
author  of  '  The  Battle-cry  of  Freedom  '  would  sing  that  song 
it  would  gratify  several  soldiers  in  the  audience  who  used  to 
sing  it  in  the  army."  I  read  the  request  to  the  audience, 
and  said  I  would  willingly  comply  with  it,  but  first  would 
like  to  relate  an  incident  concerning  one  of  their  Iowa  regi- 
ments.    Then  I  told  the  above  about  the  battle  near  Vicks- 


134  THE    STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE. 

burg.  When  I  finished  I  noticed  a  movement  at  the  end  of 
the  hall,  and  an  excited  voice  cried  out,  "  Here  is  a  soldier 
who  lost  his  arm  in  that  battle."  I  said,  "  Will  he  come  for- 
ward and  stand  by  me  while  I  sing  the  song? "  A  tall,  fine- 
looking  man,  with  one  empty  sleeve,  came  immediately  to 
my  side,  and  I  went  through  it,  he  joining  in  the  chorus. 
But  it  was  hard  work.  I  had  to  choke  a  good  deal,  and 
there  was  hardly  a  dry  eye  in  the  house.  He  was  teaching 
school  a  few  miles  from  there,  and  was  quite  musical.  I 
sent  him  some  music  after  I  returned  to  Chicago,  and  kept 
up  the  acquaintance  by  correspondence  for  some  time. 

The  following  from  The  Century,  published  a  year  or  two 
ago,  will  be  of  interest  in  this  connection : 

UNION  WAR  SONGS  AND   CONFEDERATE   OFFICERS. 

The  reading  of  Mr.  Brander  Matthews'  "  Songs  of  the  War,"  in 
the  August  number  of  The  Century,  vividly  recalls  to  mind  an  inci- 
dent of  my  own  experience,  which  seems  to  me  so  apt  an  illustration 
of  the  effect  of  army  songs  upon  men  that  I  venture  to  send  it  to  you, 
as  I  remember  it,  after  twenty-five  years. 

A  day  or  two  after  Lee's  surrender  in  April,  1865,  I  left  our  ship 
at  Dutch  Gap,  in  the  James  river,  for  a  run  up  to  Richmond,  where  I 
was  joined  by  the  ship's  surgeon,  the  paymaster  and  one  of  the  junior 
officers.  After  "  doing  "  Richmond  pretty  thoroughly  we  went  in  the 
evening  to  my  rooms  for  dinner.  Dinner  being  over,  and  the  events 
of  the  day  recounted,  the  doctor,  who  was  a  fine  player,  opened  the 
piano,  saying:  "Boys,  we've  got  our  old  quartet  here;  let's  have  a 
sing."  As  the  house  opposite  was  occupied  by  paroled  Confederate 
officers  no  patriotic  songs  were  sung.  Soon  the  lady  of  the  house 
handed  me  this  note: 

"  Compliments  of  General  and  staff.     Will  the  gentlemen 

kindly  allow  us  to  come  over  and  hear  them  sing?  " 

Of  course  we  consented,  and  they  came.  As  the  General  entered 
the  room,  I  recognized  instantly  the  face  and  figure  of  one  who  stood 
second  only  to  Lee  or  Jackson  in  the  whole  Confederacy.  After  in- 
troductions and  the  usual  interchange  of  civilities  we  sang  for  them 
glee  and  college  songs,  until  at  last  the  General  said : 

"  Excuse  me,  gentlemen  ;   you  sing  delightfully ;   but  what  we 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL    LIFE.  135 

want  to  hear  is  your  army  songs."  Then  we  gave  them  the  army 
songs  with  unction— the  "Battle  Hymn  of  the  Republic,"  "John 
Brown's  Body,"  "We're  Coming,  Father  Abraham,"  "  Tramp,  Tramp, 
Tramp,  the  Boys  are  Marching,"  through  the  whole  catalogue  to  the 
"Star-Spangled  Banner"— to  which  many  a  foot  beat  time  as  if  it 
had  never  stepped  to  any  but  the  "  music  of  the  Union  " — and  closed 
our  concert  with  "Rally  Round  the  Flag,  Boys." 

When  the  applause  had  subsided,  a  tall,  fine-looking  fellow,  in  a 
major's  uniform,  exclaimed :  "  Gentlemen,  if  we'd  had  your  songs 
we'd  have  whipped  you  out  of  your  boots  !  Who  couldn't  have 
marched  or  fought  with  such  songs?  We  had  nothing,  absolutely 
nothing,  except  a  bastard  '  Marseillaise,'  the  '  Bonny  Blue  Flag '  and 
'Dixie,'  which  were  nothing  but  jigs.  'Maryland,  My  Maryland' 
was  a  splendid  song,  but  the  old  '  Lauriger  Horatius '  was  about  as 
inspiring  as  the  '  Dead  March  in  Saul,'  while  every  one  of  the  Yankee 
songs  is  full  of  marching  and  fighting  spirit."  Then  turning  to  the 
General,  he  said :  "  I  shall  never  forget  the  first  time  I  heard  '  Rally 
Round  the  Flag.'  'Twas  a  nasty  night  during  the  '  Seven  Days' 
Fight,'  and  if  I  remember  rightly  it  was  raining.  I  was  on  picket, 
when,  just  before '  taps,'  some  fellow  on  the  other  side  struck  up  that 
song  and  others  joined  in  the  chorus  until  it  seemed  to  me  the  whole 

Yankee  army  was  singing.     Tom  B ,  who  was  with  me,  sung  out, 

'  Good  heavens,  Cap,  what  are  those  fellows  made  of,  anyway?  Here 
we've  licked  'em  six  days  running,  and  now  on  the  eve  of  the  seventh 
they're  singing,  '  Rally  Round  the  Flag.'  1  am  not  naturally  super- 
stitious, but  I  tell  you  that  song  sounded  to  me  like  the  '  knell  of 
doom,'  and  my  heart  went  down  into  my  boots  ;  and  though  I've  tried 
to  do  my  duty,  it  has  been  an  uphill  fight  with  me  ever  since  that 
night." 

The  little  company  of  Union  singers  and  Confederate  auditors, 
after  a  pleasant  and  interesting  interchange  of  stories  of  army  experi- 
ences, then  separated,  and  as  the  General  shook  hands  at  parting,  he 
said  to  me :  "  Well,  the  time  may  come  when  we  can  all  sing  the 
'  Star-Spangled  Banner  '  again."     I  have  not  seen  him  since. 

The  following  extract  from  a  letter  recently  received  also 
belongs  here : 

I  was  lately  much  interested  in  an  incident,  as  given  in  "Bright 
Skies  and  Dark  Shadows,"  Dr.  Henry  M.  Field's  last  1x>ok,  just 
published.     This  incident  took  place  on  the  day  of  the  great  battle 


136  THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE. 

of  Franklin,  near  Nashville,  Tenn.,  and  was  told  Mr.  Field  on  the 
battle-field  by  a  Mr.  McEwen,  an  old  resident  of  Nashville,  at  whose 
house  General  Kimball  made  his  headquarters,  and  from  whose  front 
door  Mr.  McEwen  witnessed  the  whole  battle,  which  was  fought 
during  the  latter  part  of  the  day. 

"About  four  o'clock,  after  the  General  had  left  for  the  field,  there 
lingered  a  Colonel,  from  Indianapolis,  in  my  parlor,  who  asked  my 
daughters  to  sing  and  play  a  piece  of  music.  My  daughters  asked 
what  they  should  play.  He  replied  that  he  did  not  know  one  piece 
of  music  from  another,  except  field  music.  I  spoke  and  asked  the 
young  ladies  to  sing  and  play  a  piece  which  had  recently  come  out, 
'Just  before  the  battle,  mother.'  At  my  request  they  sat  down  and 
sang,  and  when  about  half  through,  as  I  stepped  to  the  door,  a  shell 
exploded  within  fifty  yards.  I  immediately  returned  and  said,  '  Col- 
onel, if  I  am  any  judge,  it  is  just  about  that  time  now! '  He  imme- 
diately sprang  to  his  feet  and  ran  in  the  direction  of  his  regiment, 
but  before  he  reached  it,  or  about  that  time,  he  was  shot,  the  bullet 
passing  quite  through  him.  He  was  taken  to  Nashville,  and  eighteen 
days  after,  I  received  a  message  from  him  through  an  officer,  stating 
the  fact  of  his  being  shot,  and  that  the  piece  of  music  the  young 
ladies  were  executing  was  still  ringing  in  his  ears,  and  had  been  ever 
since  he  left  my  parlor  the  evening  of  the  battle.  In  April,  four 
months  later,  after  the  war  was  over,  he  had  sufficiently  recovered  to 
travel,  when  he  came  to  Franklin,  as  he  stated,  expressly  to  get  the 
young  ladies  to  finish  the  song,  and  relieve  his  ears.  His  wife  and 
more  than  a  dozen  officers  accompanied  him.  He  found  the  ladies, 
and  they  sang  and  played  the  piece  through  for  him  in  the  presence 
of  all  the  officers,  and  they  wept  like  children." 

If  you  have  made  any  music  that  will  ring  for  four  months  in 
the  ears  of  a  person  that  doesn't  know  one  tune  from  another,  I 
thought  you  ought  to  know  it. 

As  I  have  said,  when  anything  happened  that  could  be 
voiced  in  a  song,  or  when  the  heart  of  the  Nation  was  moved 
by  particular  circumstances  or  conditions  caused  by  the  war, 
I  wrote  what  I  thought  would  then  express  the  emotions 
of  the  soldiers  or  the  people.  Picturing  the  condition  and 
thoughts  of  the  soldier  on  the  eve  of  an  engagement,  I  wrote 
"Just  before  the  battle,  mother"  and  "Within  the  sound  of 


THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE.  1 37 

the  enemy's  guns."  When  our  brave  Colonel  Mulligan  fell, 
his  last  words  were  "  Lay  me  down  and  save  the  flag."  The 
day  after  the  news  of  that  event  reached  us,  the  song  bearing 
that  title  was  issued.  It  was  much  sung  at  the  time  in  re- 
membrance of  that  distinguished  and  lamented  officer.  I 
tried  to  help  the  enlistments  by  "  Come,  brothers,  all,  'tis 
Columbia's  call,"  and  to  hit  the  copperhead  element  of  the 
North  by  "  Stand  up  for  Uncle  Sam,  boys."  I  voiced  the 
feeling  of  the  people  in  regard  to  the  treatment  of  prisoners 
by  "Starved  in  prison,"  and  gave  a  more  hopeful  view  in 
"Tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  the  boys  are  marching."  "O,  come 
you  from  the  battle-field?"  and  "Brother,  tell  me  of  the 
battle"  represented  the  anxiety  of  those  who  had  fathers  or 
sons  or  brothers  in  the  army,  and  "  The  Vacant  Chair  "  the 
mourning  for  the  lost  one.  One  of  the  thrilling  scenes  of 
the  war  is  described  in  "Who'll  Save  the  Left?"  and  the 
grief  of  the  Nation  at  the  death  of  President  Lincoln  by 
"Farewell,  father,  friend  and  guardian."  This  is  a  partial 
list  of  the  songs  that  I  wrote  during  the  war.  Only  a  few 
had  an  extended  use  and  popularity,  but  none  was  entirely 
useless. 

One  day  early  in  the  war  a  quiet  and  rather  solemn-look- 
ing young  man,  poorly  clad,  was  sent  up  to  my  room  from 
the  store  with  a  song  for  me  to  examine.  I  looked  at  it  and 
then  at  him  in  astonishment.  It  was  "  Kingdom  Coming," 
— elegant  in  manuscript,  full  of  bright,  good  sense  and  com- 
ical situations  in  its  "  darkey"  dialect — the  words  fitting  the 
melody  almost  as  aptly  and  neatly  as  Gilbert  fits  Sullivan — 
the  melody  decidedly  good  and  taking,  and  the  whole  exactly 
suited  to  the  times.  "  Did  you  write  this — words  and  music?  " 
I  asked.  A  gentle  "Yes"  was  the  answer.  "  What  is  your 
business,  if  I  may  inquire?"  "I  am  a  printer."  "Would 
you  rather  write  music  than  set  type?  "  "  Yes."  "  Well,  if 
this  is  a  specimen  of  what  you  can  do,  I  think  you  may  give 


138  THE    STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE. 

up  the  printing  business."  He  liked  that  idea  very  much, 
and  an  arrangement  with  us  was  soon  made.  He  needed 
some  musical  help  that  I  could  give  him,  and  we  needed  just 
such  songs  as  he  could  write.  The  connection,  which  con- 
tinued some  years,  proved  very  profitable  both  to  him  and 
to  us.  This  was  Henry  C.  Work,  whose  principal  songs 
while  he  was  with  us  were  "  Kingdom  Coming,"  "  Babylon 
is  Fallen,"  "  Wake,  Nicodemus,"  "  Ring  the  Bell,  Watch- 
man," "Song  of  a  Thousand  Years,"  "Marching  Thro' 
Georgia"  and  "  Come  Home,  Father." 

Mr.  Work  was  a  slow,  pains-taking  writer,  being  from 
one  to  three  weeks  upon  a  song ;  but  when  the  work  was 
done  it  was  like  a  piece  of  fine  mosaic,  especially  in  the  fit- 
ting of  words  to  music.  His  "  Marching  Thro'  Georgia"  is 
more  played  and  sung  at  the  present  time  than  any  other 
song  of  the  war.  This  is  not  only  on  account  of  the  intrinsic 
merit  of  its  words  and  music,  but  because  it  is  retrospective. 
Other  war  songs,  "  The  Battle-cry  of  Freedom  "  for  example, 
were  for  exciting  the  patriotic  feeling  on  going  in  to  the  war 
or  the  battle;  "Marching  Thro'  Georgia"  is  a  glorious  re- 
membrance on  coming  triumphantly  out,  and  so  has  been 
more  appropriate  to  soldiers'  and  other  gatherings  ever  since. 

It  must  have  been  some  time  in  1863  that  I  received  a 
letter  from  somewhere  in  Pennsylvania  that  interested  us 
all  very  much.  It  accompanied  the  manuscript  of  a  song. 
Would  we  give  the  writer  a  flute  for  it,  was  the  substance 
of  the  letter,  expressed  in  a  quaint  and  original  way,  and  in 
beautiful  handwriting.  We  were  on  the  lookout  for  bright 
men,  and  we  felt  sure  that  here  was  one.  The  song  needed 
some  revising,  but  we  took  it  and  sent  him  the  flute.  After 
a  while  he  wrote  again,  saying  he  would  like  to  come  out  to 
Chicago  if  he  could  find  anything  to  do.  He  gave  an  account 
of  his  accomplishments  in  his  droll  way,  and  we  all  became 
much  interested  in  having  him  come.    I  think  it  was  he  who 


THE    STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL    LIFE.  1 39 

finally  made  the  plan  that  was  agreed  upon,  namely  :  He 
would  go  as  our  representative  to  the  towns  that  would 
naturally  be  tributary  to  Chicago,  and  hold  conventions,  or 
give  concerts,  or  do  something  musical,  whenever  he  could 
get  the  opportunity,  (his  wife  being  his  accompanist,)  and  so 
turn  people's  attention  to  us  for  whatever  they  might  want 
in  the  way  of  music.  For  this  service  we  guaranteed  him  a 
certain  annual  sum.  If  the  proceeds  of  his  concerts  and 
conventions  did  not  reach  that  amount  we  were  to  make  it 
up.  While  engaged  in  this  work  he  was  constantly  sending 
in  words  and  music  of  various  kinds  for  revision  and  correc- 
tion. It  was  not  long  before  I  saw  that  here  was  a  man  who 
had  a  "call"  especially  as  a  poet.  His  musical  training  and 
experiences  were  too  limited  to  permit  safe  flights  on  his  part 
beyond  simple  harmonies,  although  it  was  easily  seen  that 
he  had  a  natural  vein  of  true  melody.  What  a  wonderful  use 
his  songs  have  performed  now  for  more  than  a  score  of  years. 
I  presume  it  is  seen  that  I  am  writing  of  the  beloved  and 
lamented  P.  P.  Bliss. 

When  Mr.  Moody,  from  being  a  simple,  hard  working 
but  devoted  city  missionary  in  Chicago,  began  to  come  to 
the  front  as  an  evangelist,  Mr.  Bliss's  songs,  and  some  that  I 
wrote,  were  of  much  use  to  him.  He  used  to  say  of  my  first 
gospel  song,  "  Come  to  the  Savior,"  that  it  was  the  "  Rally 
Round  the  Flag  "  of  the  gospel  work.  It  was  indeed  stirring 
when  Mr.  Bliss's  magnificent  voice  gave  it  forth,  for  it  then 
came  from  a  heart  and  soul  in  deepest  sympathy  with  the 
work  to  which  he  ultimately  devoted  himself — the  writing 
and  singing  of  gospel  songs.  He  remained  with  us  until  the 
breaking  up  caused  by  the  great  fire,  and  we  published  all 
the  songs  and  other  music  that  he  wrote  up  to  that  time. 

The  growth  of  our  business  after  the  war  commenced 
was  something  remarkable.  The  name  of  Root  &  Cad)' 
went  all  over  the  land  on  our  war  songs,  and  on  our  little 


140  THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE. 

musical  monthly,  The  Song  Messenger  of  the  Northwest. 
Those  among  the  people  and  in  the  army  who  liked  our 
publications  seemed  to  turn  to  us  for  everything  they  wanted 
in  our  line  when  it  was  possible.  We  kept  everything  in 
the  way  of  musical  merchandise  from  pianos  and  organs  to 
jewsharps,  and  all  the  music  of  the  day  in  book  or  sheet 
form.  My  brother  attended  to  the  business  detail  in  all  the 
departments,  Mr.  Cady  to  the  finances  and  general  manage- 
ment, and  I  to  the  publications.  My  brother  William  was 
also  with  us  in  the  office. 

Speaking  of  The  Song  Messe?iger  reminds  me  of  an  inci- 
dent that  may  be  worth  mentioning.  We  published  a  New 
Year's  extra  in  those  days  which  we  sent  broadcast  from 
Maine  to — I  was  going  to  say  Georgia,  but  that  section  was 
barred  out  then.  We  sent  from  the  North  and  West  as  far 
South  as  we  could.  I  think  we  were  the  first  to  send  "  To 
the  principal  singer,"  etc.,  and  the  plan  being  new  the  little 
missives  were  not  thrown  into  the  waste  basket  to  any  ex- 
tent, either  by  postmasters  or  recipients,  but  produced  great 
results.  I  used  to  write  a  song  for  this  extra.  The  }^ear 
previous  to  the  time  of  which  I  am  speaking,  "Just  before 
the  battle,  mother,"  was  the  song.  December  was  now  ap- 
proaching, and  I  was  very  much  interested  in  something  I 
was  working  at — "  The  Curriculum,"  I  think  it  was — and  had 
put  off  the  song  for  the  coming  extra.  One  day  my  brother 
said,  "  We  must  have  that  song  or  we  can  not  get  the  paper 
into  the  hands  of  the  people  by  New  Year's  Day;  go  write 
it  now  while  it  is  on  your  mind."  In  two  hours  I  brought 
him  the  song.  We  tried  it  over  and  he  said,  "  I  must  con- 
fess I  don't  think  much  of  it,  but  it  may  do."  I  was  inclined 
to  agree  with  him  about  the  music,  but  after  all  was  a  little 
disappointed,  because  I  had  grown  quite  warm  and  interested 
in  writing  the  words.  They  were  on  a  subject  that  was  then 
very  near  the  hearts  of  the  loyal  people  of  the  North.     The 


THK   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE.  14 1 

song  was  "Tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  the  boys  are  marching," 
and  was  not  only  an  illustration  of  the  advantage  of  my 
blackboard  training,  but  was  a  further  confirmation  of  what 
I  have  said  before,  that  in  my  case  successes  were  usually 
surprises. 

In  1863,  having  outgrown  our  quarters  on  Clark  street, 
we  moved  into  the  Crosby  Opera-house  building,  then  just 
erected  on  Washington  street,  near  State.  This  store  and 
basement  were  one  hundred  and  eighty  feet  long  by  thirty  in 
width,  to  which  was  eventually  added  a  building  just  across 
the  alley  in  the  rear,  which  aggregated  a  still  larger  floor 
area.  The  basement  in  this  rear  building  was  occupied  by 
our  printing-office  and  steam  presses,  and  the  main  floor  by 
pianos  and  organs.  The  second  story  had  rooms  for  band 
and  orchestra  instruments  and  "  small  goods,"  and  one  fitted 
up  for  my  use.  Here  I  made  my  books  and  songs,  and 
looked  after  the  publishing  interests  of  the  house.  This 
large  amount  of  room  was  necessitated  by  the  buying  out  of 
various  small  musical  establishments,  culminating  in  the 
purchase  of  the  extensive  catalogue,  with  all  its  music  plates, 
of  the  entire  stock  of  Henry  Tolman  &  Co.,  of  Boston — 
two  or  three  car  loads.  This  catalogue  included  that  of 
Nathan  Richardson,  afterwards  Russell  &  Richardson,  and 
afterwards  Russell  &  Tolman.  So  the  songs  of  mine  that 
they  had  published  came  back  to  me,  and  I  was  now  their 
publisher  as  well  as  author. 

When  "  The  Battle-cry  of  Freedom  "  came  out  I  sent, 
as  usual,  the  first  copy  to  my  wife,  who  was  still  at  North 
Reading.  Soon  after  she  received  it  she  learned  that  James 
R.  Murray,  one  of  our  Normal  boys,  to  whom  we  were  much 
attached,  had  volunteered,  and  was  then  in  camp  at  Lynn- 
field,  the  next  town  east,  so  she  and  my  father  determined  to 
go  and  give  him  a  "  God  speed  "  before  he  went  to  the  front. 
They  did  so,  and  gave  him  the  new  song,  which  he  intro- 


142  THK    STORY    OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE. 

duced  into  that  section  of  the  army.  While  in  Virginia,  in 
his  second  year  of  service,  Mr.  Murray  wrote  and  sent  us 
"  Daisy  Deane,"  a  beautiful  song,  which,  doubtless,  some  of 
my  readers  will  remember.  It  was  one  of  the  marked  suc- 
cesses of  the  day.  We  kept  up  a  constant  correspondence, 
and  I  saw  not  only  his  musical  abilities,  but  unmistakable 
signs  of  his  editorial  capabilities.  So  when  he  left  the  army 
he  came  to  us  as  editor  of  The  Song  Messenger,  and  assistant 
in  the  writing  and  publishing  department  of  our  business. 

There  came  to  us  in  those  days  a  very  interesting  and 
talented  man  by  the  name  of  Hanby.  He  was  educated  for 
the  ministry,  but  was  so  strongly  inclined  to  music  that  he 
decided  to  try  to  make  that  his  life's  work.  He  had  already 
written  "  Darling  Nelly  Gray,"  which  was  published  by  O. 
Ditson  &  Co.,  and  which  had  a  large  sale.  He  was  also  the 
author  of  "  Ole  Shady,"  which  is  famous  still.  He  wrote 
while  with  us  some  beautiful  Sunday-school  songs,  some  of 
which  are  in  use  yet.  But  he  died  almost  at  the  commence- 
ment of  his  career. 

I  must  not  omit  to  speak  in  this  connection  of  Chauncey 
M.  Wyman,  whom  I  have  mentioned  as  one  of  the  North 
Reading  normals,  and  who  cast  in  his  lot  with  us  in  those 
days.  He  had  used  my  books  in  his  convention  work  in  the 
East,  and  had  attended  some  conventions  that  I  conducted 
in  Vermont  and  New  Hampshire.  In  one  he  was  assistant 
conductor,  and  I  saw  that  he  was  one  of  the  coming  men. 
So  when  he  decided  that  he  would  have  a  book  of  his  own  I 
asked  him  to  come  out  to  Chicago  and  make  it,  and  we  would 
publish  it.  This  he  did,  and  "  The  Palm  "  was  the  result. 
What  he  would  have  done  as  a  composer  can  hardly  be  told 
by  this  one  effort,  but  as  a  conductor  I  have  no  hesitation  in 
saying  that  he  would  have  stood  in  the  highest  rank  had  he 
lived.  His  magnetism  was  wonderful,  and  his  control  of  a 
chorus  absolute.     What  he  wished  to  accomplish  he  did,  if 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL    LIFE.  1 43 

the  capacities  of  the  singers  were  equal  to  his  conceptions. 
I  have  a  very  tender  feeling  when  I  think  of  the  great  Nor- 
mal (of  which  I  will  speak  later),  where  he  was  our  oratorio 
conductor,  and  from  which  he  went  to  his  New  England 
home  never  to  leave  it  alive.  His  calm  exterior  gave  no  hint 
of  the  intense  strain  he  was  under  on  that  memorable  occa- 
sion in  the  introduction  and  use  of  his  first  book  and  the 
conducting  of  our  great  chorus.  We  also  published  the  early, 
if  not  the  first  works  of  H.  R.  Palmer — "The  Song  Queen," 
"The  Song  King,"  "The  Normal  Collection,"  and  "  Palmer's 
Concert  Choruses." 

Among  the  incidents  in  regard  to  people  who  became 
connected  with  us  in  those  days  I  must  not  omit  this:  One 
day  a  delicate  and  refined  looking,  but  poorly  clad  young 
man  came  to  the  office,  which  was  in  the  center  of  the  store 
and  where  I  happened  to  be,  and  said :  "  I  am  a  musician, 
and  wish  employment.  I  have  been  in  a  theatrical  company 
which  has  disbanded  in  Indiana,  and  my  trunk  is  detained 
there.  I  am  entirely  without  means,  but  I  can  play,  I  can 
read  well  at  sight,  and  I  can  compose,  as  I  will  show  you." 
All  this  was  said  with  the  utmost  fluency,  after  which  he 
stepped  lightly  to  a  piano  and  played  an  Etude  elegantly. 
He  then  asked  for  pen  and  music  paper,  and  wrote  without 
the  slightest  hesitation  or  delay  a  song,  words  and  music.  I 
do  not  know  why  I  did  not  think  that  last  performance  a 
pretense,  for  the  work  was  as  elegant  as  his  playing,  but  I 
did  not.  There  was  something  about  him  that  made  us  all 
feel  that  under  that  airy  manner  there  was  solid  musical 
attainment,  and  that  he  was  all  he  pretended  to  be.  That 
proved  true,  and  he  was  with  us  a  year  or  two.  He  was 
then  W.  J.  Robjohn,  but  is  at  present  known  as  Caryl  Florio, 
one  of  New  York's  most  accomplished  musicians. 

When  our  business  began  to  assume  the  large  proportions 
that  it  afterward  reached,  I  saw  that  it  could  no  longer  be 


144  THK   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE- 

regarded  as  a  secondary  matter  or  a  recreation.  It  was  clear 
that  I  was  to  be  absorbed  in  its  whirl  as  my  hard-working 
brother  had  been  from  the  beginning.  My  department  now 
demanded  nearly  all  the  time  I  could  spare  from  writing,  and 
to  attend  to  that  properly  I  must  give  up  conventions,  and, 
consequently,  Willow  Farm  as  home.  So  in  1863  I  moved 
my  family  to  Chicago.  It  consisted  then  of  wife,  two  sons, 
and  three  daughters.  F.  W.,  the  oldest,  had  taken  lessons 
upon  the  piano  from  Mr.  B.  C.  Blodgett,  now  one  of  the  most 
prosperous  musical  men  of  Massachusetts,  and  then  he  had 
studied  for  a  while  with  Mr.  William  Mason  in  New  York. 
He  took  an  organist's  situation  as  soon  as  he  arrived  in 
Chicago,  and  divided  his  time  between  the  store  and  practice. 
When  my  second  son  finished  his  school  studies  in  Chicago 
both  boys  went  to  Europe,  and  studied  music  and  languages 
in  Germany  and  Italy  for  a  year  or  more.  On  their  return, 
F.  W.  decided  to  make  music  his  profession,  and  Charles 
went  into  the  store. 

Early  in  the  war,  probably  in  1862,  the  last  Normal  in 
which  Dr.  Mason  taught  was  held  in  Wooster,  Ohio.     Dr. 
Mason,  myself,  and  Geo.  B.  Loomis  were  the  principal  teach- 
ers, and  the  work  continued  six  weeks.     There  was  a  good 
attendance,  but  the  recruiting  officers  around  us,  and  an  oc- 
casional war  meeting  kept  up  an  excitement  that  worked 
against  us,  not  only  in  other  people's  minds  but  in  our  own. 
We  were  deeply  interested  in  the  struggle,  and  always  ready 
to  help  at  the  war  meetings.   The  new  war-songs  contributed 
not  a  little  to  rouse  the  enthusiasm  of  the  people  and  help 
the  recruiting,  sung  as  they  were  by  our  fine  chorus.    Phillip 
Phillips,  I  remember,  was  one  of  the  normals  of  that  session. 
When  the  war  began  no  one  thought  it  would  last  long 
— a  year  was  the  outside  limit  in  most  minds,  but  in  the 
second  year  the  magnitude  of  the  undertaking  began  to  ap- 
pear.    So  many  young  men  of  the  North  were  in  the  army 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  145 

that  I  made  no  more  attempts  to  hold  the  Normal  until  the 
war  was  over.  Then  I  think  the  first  one  was  in  Winona, 
Minnesota.  I  was  the  principal,  but  the  younger  men  were 
now  coming  to  the  front,  and  I  had  excellent  assistants  in 
Bliss,  Towne,  F.  W.  (before  he  went  abroad),  and  O.  D. 
Adams.  J.  R.  Murray  was  left  in  charge  of  my  department 
of  the  business  in  Chicago.  At  the  next  Normal  H.  R. 
Palmer  and  I  joined  forces.  It  was  held  in  Janesville,  Wis., 
and  was  a  large  and  interesting  gathering. 

But  the  most  memorable  Normal  session  of  those  days 
was  held  in  South  Bend,  Indiana,  in  1870.  Dr.  Mason  and 
Mr.  Webb  had  left  the  work  to  younger  hands.  Mr.  Brad- 
bury had  passed  away,  and  I  was  alone  of  the  original  four. 
I  secured  the  services  of  Carlo  Bassini,  then  well  known  and 
extremely  popular  throughout  the  United  States,  as  the  voice 
teacher,  and  William  Mason,  the  distinguished  pianist,  not 
only  to  give  lessons  to  advanced  pupils,  but  to  give  recitals 
and  lectures  twice  a  week  to  the  entire  Institute.  These 
recitals  inaugurated  a  new  department  in  Normal  work, 
which  has  been  kept  up  ever  since.  Chauncey  M.  Wyman, 
of  whom  I  have  spoken,  was  our  chorus  and  oratorio  con- 
ductor, and  Bliss,  Towne,  and  F.  W.  Root  (just  returned  from 
Europe)  assisted  in  various  departments.  W.  S.  B.  Mathews, 
of  Chicago,  was  Mr.  Mason's  assistant  in  piano  teaching.  I 
think  it  was  here  that  C.  C.  Case  and  James  McGranahan 
made  their  first  appearance  as  Normal  pupils.  S.  W.  Straub 
was  also  a  member  this  year. 

Schuyler  Colfax,  then  Vice-President  of  the  United  States, 
lived  in  South  Bend,  and  was  very  fond  of  looking  in  upon 
us,  and  on  one  occasion  I  asked  him  to  say  something  to  the 
class.  He  first  wanted  to  know  how  many  were  in  attend- 
ance. I  told  him  about  two  hundred  from  abroad.  (I  be- 
lieve there  were  one  hundred  and  eighty  actual  teachers  and 
those  intending  to  teach.)     He  then  wanted  to  know  how 


146  THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

many  States  were  represented,  and  asked  the  members  from 
the  different  States  to  raise  their  hands  as  he  named  their 
State.  This  was  done,  and  it  was  found  that  seventeeyi  States 
and  Canada  were  represented  in  the  membership  of  the  In- 
stitute. Then  Mr.  Colfax  commenced  his  speech  by  saying : 
"This  should  be  called  'The  National  Musical  Institute,' 
since  the  nation  is  so  largely  represented  in  it,"  and  I  was 
glad  to  adopt  that  designation,  as  "  Normals"  had  now  sprung 
up  all  over  the  land. 

The  evening  chorus  was  a  noble  one,  numbering  nearly 
three  hundred  singers.  The  oratorio  was  the  "Creation," 
and  at  the  first  rehearsal  Mr.  Wyman  tried  several  of  the 
choruses,  among  them  "  The  Heavens  are  Telling,"  to  ascer- 
tain the  reading  ability  of  his  class.  The  choruses  were  not 
well  sung,  but  there  was  no  breakdown.  They  were  read 
straight  through.  Mr.  Bassini,  who  was  present,  expressed 
some  surprise  that  people  from  such  widely  varied  localities 
should  have  all  sung  the  "  Creation."  I  told  him  they  had 
probably  never  seen  it  before.  This  he  could  not  believe. 
I  then  asked  all  who  had  sung  "  The  Heavens  are  Telling  " 
before  to  rise,  and  four  persons  stood  up.  "Ah,"  said  Mr. 
Bassini,  in  his  demonstrative  way,  "  I  was  for  many  j^ears 
chorus  master  for  the  Italian  opera  in  different  countries  of 
luirope  and  in  South  America,  and  I  never  found  people 
who  could  read  like  that."  "How  did  you  teach  them?"  I 
asked.  "  Oh,  I  played  the  part  they  were  to  sing  over  and 
over  on  my  violin  until  they  learned  it.  It  was  great  drudg- 
ery." Recalling  that  incident  reminds  me  that  Mr.  Bassini 
came  to  this  country  as  a  solo  violinist.  I  heard  him  in  that 
capacity  in  New  York  in  '46  or  '47.  He  did  not  succeed  in 
that  line,  although  he  played  finely,  and  for  a  time  he  went 
out  of  sight.  Then  he  began  to  be  known  as  a  teacher  of 
singing,  and  from  that  time  no  one  ever  heard  of  him  as  a 
violinist     He  knew  well  the  value  of  having  but  one.spe- 


the  story  of  a  musical  life.  147 

cialty.  In  this  he  became  famous,  and  made  a  great  deal  of 
money.  He  cleared  over  a  thousand  dollars  in  his  six  weeks 
with  us  at  South  Bend.  But  he  was  a  delicate  man.  It  was 
only  his  indomitable  will  that  kept  his  frail  body  up  to  the 
work  he  did.  He  went  to  Chicago  from  South  Bend  to  teach 
in  a  short  Normal  that  Mr.  Palmer  was  holding,  and  was 
there  my  guest.  But  he  could  not  stay  through.  He  left 
the  second  week,  and  went  home  to  die.  He  was  a  most 
lovable  man,  and  is  remembered  with  warm  affection  by  us 
all. 


148  THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

1871-1873,  CHICAGO — THE  HEALTH  LIFT  AND  THE  ASTONISHED 
PIANO  MOVERS  —  THE  GIGANTIC  LOTTERY  SCHEME  —  OUR 
SUCCESSFUL  PUBLICATIONS,  INCLUDING  DR.  PALMER'S  AND 
MR.  BLISS'S  EARUY  WORKS  —  HEAVY  STOCK  —  THE  GREAT 
FIRE — MY  GREEN  BOX  —  MR.  CURWEN'S  GIFT — NEW  BUSI- 
NESS ARRANGEMENTS  —  THE  NORMAL  OF  '72 — THE  SAD 
TELEGRAM. 

WHEN  my  convention  work  was  at  its  height,  and  I 
about  thirty-eight  years  of  age,  I  used  to  have  occa- 
sionally a  nervous  re-action  at  the  close  of  my  four  days' 
work  that  affected  my  head  unpleasantly.  When  our  in- 
creasing business  confined  me  more,  and  some  large  obliga- 
tions that  were  upon  us  made  me  anxious,  the  trouble  came 
oftener  and  each  time  remained  longer.  Finally  it  came  to 
stay.  The  doctors  said  it  was  a  trouble  of  the  brain,  and  I 
must  quit  business — had  better  go  to  Europe,  or  somewhere 
away.  About  that  time  Mr.  Curwen  (the  elder),  hearing  that 
I  was  out  of  health,  invited  me  to  make  him  a  visit.  He 
wrote  that  if  I  would  come  they  would  welcome  me  to  Lon- 
don with  a  chorus  of  five  thousand  voices  singing  my  music. 
But  I  had  not  the  courage  to  face  the  sea  voyage  and  de- 
clined. 

Being  near  Boston  not  long  after,  a  medical  friend  said : 
1  Try  Butler ;  they  say  he  has  done  wonders  for  such  cases 
as  yours."  "  Who  is  Butler?"  '•'.  Oh,  he  is  a  man  who  has 
an  apparatus  for  lifting — says  he  can  make  people  so  strong 
that  they  can  lift  away  all  troubles  that  flesh  is  heir  to."  I 
could  see  that  my  friend  had  not  unqualified  confidence  in 


THK   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  149 

the  scheme,  or,  rather,  that  he  had  the  usual  professional 
distrust  of  anything  out  of  the  regular  line;  but  drowning 
men  catch  at  straws,  so  I  tried  it.  I  booked  myself  for  three 
months  of  lifting  iron  weights.  I  went  once  a  day,  occupy- 
ing about  half  an  hour  each  time  in  making  four  lifts.  Noth- 
ing could  be  more  simple — standing  erect  upon  a  table,  bend- 
ing the  knees,  grasping  a  handle  which  was  attached  to  a 
bar,  upon  which  weights  were  hung  under  the  table,  and 
then  straightening  up.  The  act  was  a  matter  of  a  few  sec- 
onds, but  it  sent  the  blood  to  every  capillary  of  the  body. 
As  the  strength  increased  the  weights  were  increased.  The 
third  week  I  was  inclined  to  be  discouraged,  for  I  did  not 
feel  any  better.  If  anything,  my  troubles  were  sharper  and 
more  pronounced ;  but  Mr.  Butler  smiled  his  imperturbable 
smile,  and  said :  "  Can  you  lift  more  than  you  could  last 
week?"  "  Yes."  "Are  you  absolutely  sure  of  that?  "  "  Yes  ; 
there  can  be  no  doubt  about  that ;  there  are  the  iron  weights 
to  prove  it."  "  Then,  no  matter  how  you  feel,  you  are  better." 
This  bolstered  me  up  and  I  went  on.  I  required  this  kind 
of  help  several  times  before  the  three  months  were  out.  My 
troubles  had  been  years  in  coming  on,  and  were  not  to  be 
driven  away  in  a  few  weeks.  But  before  the  three  months 
were  out  I  saw  that  I  was  on  the  right  track,  so  I  purchased 
a  set  of  the  apparatus  and  had  it  sent  to  my  house  in  Chicago. 
There  I  continued  its  use,  and  in  six  months  I  began  to 
work  a  little. 

After  a  while  it  got  noised  about  that  I  was  lifting  heavy 
weights.  Our  piano  movers  were  specially  interested  in 
what  was  said.  I  was  still  rather  pale,  and  certainly  did  not 
look  like  a  person  who  could  lift  such  weights  as  they  prided 
themselves  upon  lifting,  so  they  were  entirely  skeptical  on 
the  subject.  They  said  nothing  to  me,  but  were  disposed  to 
be  facetious  about  the  matter  among  themselves,  as  I  was 
told.     One  day  they  had  occasion  to  move  a  piano  to  my 


150  THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL    LIFE. 

house,  and  I  said,  "Boys,  would  you  like  to  try  the  lift?" 
They  assented  eagerly,  and  followed  me  up  into  the  attic, 
where  I  had  a  room  arranged  for  the  apparatus.  I  showed 
them  what  to  do,  and  put  on  a  moderate  weight  which  they 
all  lifted  in  turn.  There  were  three  of  them.  Then  I  added 
more,  and  continued  until  they  began  to  give  out.  The 
youngest,  who  was  a  very  strong  lad  of  twenty,  just  strug- 
gled up  with  six  hundred.  Then  I  added  another  hundred 
and  lifted  it  without  difficulty.  Their  astonishment  and  con- 
sternation were  amusing.  There  must  be  some  trick  about 
it.  But  no ;  there  were  the  iron  disks,  weighing  fifty  pounds 
each,  which  they  could  take  into  their  hands,  and  fourteen 
of  them  were  on  the  bar.  I  did  not  explain  to  them  that  I 
probably  could  not  have  lifted  in  a  stooping  position  what 
they  did,  nor  that  while  certain  of  their  muscles  used  in  that 
position  were  very  strong,  certain  others,  when  they  stood 
straight,  were  not  up  to  the  mark,  and  when  the  strain  came 
equally  on  all,  the  weak  ones  gave  way,  just  as  a  chain  in 
use  would  only  be  as  strong  as  its  weakest  link.  They  never 
could  understand  it,  and  looked  at  me  with  awe  and  wonder 
after  that,  whenever  I  passed  them  in  the  store  or  on  the 
street. 

In  a  year  and  a  half  I  could  lift  more  than  a  thousand 
pounds,  and  my  troubles  were  gone.  Meanwhile  my  partners 
and  others  tried  it  and  were  benefited,  and  we  furnished  the 
capital  to  start  a  room  where  the  system  could  be  adminis- 
tered to  the  public,  and  Dr.  Frank  W.  Reilly  was  placed  in 
charge.  He  called  the  establishment  the  "  Health  Lift,"  and 
made  some  important  improvements  in  the  apparatus,  and 
gave  a  clear  and  rational  statement  of  the  reasons  for  its 
success.  This  was  among  the  prosperous  enterprises  swept 
away  by  the  great  fire. 

A  curious  episode  in  our  opera-house  life  is  worth  relat- 
ing.   Somewhere  about  '69  Mr.  Crosby,  under  some  financial 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  151 

pressure,  put  up  his  magnificent  building  as  the  prize  in  a 
gigantic  lottery  scheme.  One  hundred  thousand  tickets  at 
five  dollars  apiece  were  to  be  sold,  and  the  holder  of  the 
successful  one  was  to  own  the  opera-house — one  chance  in 
one  hundred  thousand.  Tickets  were  sold  all  over  the  Uni- 
ted States,  and  it  was  almost  a  national  affair  when  the  time 
for  drawing  came.  At  all  events  the  excitement  in  and  about 
the  building  was  intense.  I  was  not  present  when  the  draw- 
ing took  place,  but  I  think  it  was  done  by  a  child  blindfolded, 
the  tickets  having  been  thoroughly  stirred  up  in  a  revolving 
cylinder.  The  winner  was  a  miller  in  southern  Illinois,  but 
he  was  immediately  induced,  under  the  fear  that  the  whole 
proceeding  might  be  found  to  be  illegal,  to  take  a  much  less 
sum  than  five  hundred  thousand  dollars  for  his  prize.  But 
what  he  did  receive  made  him  a  rich  man.  He  came  into 
the  store  after  the  matter  was  all  settled,  and,  looking  about, 
remarked,  "  I  owned  all  this  for  half  an  hour."  In  the  course 
of  the  conversation  he  said,  "  I  knew  I  should  win ;  I  always 
do."  Then  he  gave  some  account  of  his  successes  at  fairs  and 
raffles  in  St.  Louis,  near  which  city  he  lived,  which,  if  true, 
were  certainly  very  remarkable.  I  think  the  building  went 
back  into  Mr.  Crosby's  hands. 

Up  to  1 87 1  we  had  published  of  my  composition  the  war 
songs  before  mentioned,  and  a  good  many  others  on  various 
subjects,  and  of  books  "  The  Silver  Lute,"  "  The  Bugle  Call," 
"Chapel  Gems,"  "  The  Musical  Fountain,"  "The  Forest 
Choir,"  "The  Prize,"  "The  Coronet,"  "The  Triumph,"  and 
"The  Musical  Curriculum."  On  my  works  we  had  both 
author's  and  publisher's  profit.  On  those  of  other  authors, 
for  whom  we  published,  we  had  only  the  publisher's  profit, 
as  on  them  we  paid  royalties. 

When  the  war  closed  the  war  songs  stopped  as  if  they  had 
been  shot.  Everybody  had  had  enough  of  war.  "Tramp" 
was  the  last  successful  one,  and  had  but  a  short  life — less 


152  THE   STORY   OF  A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

than  a  year,  but  in  that  time  our  profit  on  it  was  ten  thou- 
sand dollars.  All  the  songs  by  Mr.  Work  and  ni}rself,  that 
have  been  mentioned,  had  large  sales,  the  above  giving  some 
general  idea  of  the  profit  of  each  to  author  and  publisher. 
Of  "  The  Silver  Lute  "  (for  day  schools)  were  sold  more  than 
a  hundred  thousand  copies.  "  The  Prize,"  for  Sunday  schools, 
was  still  more  successful.  "  The  Triumph,"  which  was  the 
last  successful  large-sized  book  for  choirs  and  conventions 
($13.50  a  dozen),  sold  ninety  thousand  copies  the  first  year, 
at  a  profit  to  us  of  thirty  thousand  dollars.  H.  R.  Palmer 
made  the  first  successful  smaller-sized  books  for  singing 
classes  and  conventions — the  "  Song  Queen  "  and  the  "  Song 
King,"  both  of  which  had  very  large  sales,  and  contributed 
proportionately  to  our  profits.  All  the  other  books  by  Mr. 
Palmer  and  myself,  as  well  as  those  by  Mr.  Bliss,  that  we 
published,  were  fairly  successful.  My  largest  work,  "The 
Musical  Curriculum,"  had  been  but  recently  issued,  and  at 
this  date  was  just  getting  under  way. 

In  pianos,  organs,  band  instruments  and  general  musical 
merchandise  we  had  a  large  trade  and  carried  a  heavy  stock. 
The  two  floors  in  the  opera-house,  180  by  30  feet  each,  and 
as  much  room  in  the  rear  building,  were  filled  to  overflow- 
ing, beside  the  basement,  in  which  was  the  type-setting  and 
printing  department.  One  can  get  some  idea  of  the  space 
required  simply  for  a  fair  stock  of  books  for  such  a  trade  as 
we  had  by  considering  how  much  room  twenty-five  cords  of 
wood  would  take,  and  then,  by  figuring,  ascertain  that  the 
ninety  thousand  "  Triumph,"  spoken  of  above,  would  make 
more  than  twenty-five  cords  of  books. 

And  now  the  memorable  autumn  of  187 1  had  come.  Our 
presses  had  been  at  work  all  summer,  and  great  piles  of  books 
filled  the  basement  of  the  main  building,  ready  for  the  fall 
trade.  They  would  all  be  gone  in  a  few  weeks,  so  we  did 
not  take  out  a  special  insurance  upon  them,  but  assumed  the 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  1 53 

risk  for  that  short  time  ourselves.  I  lived  then  in  Groveland 
Park,  near  the  Chicago  University,  about  four  miles  south 
from  our  place  of  business.  Between  three  and  four  o'clock 
in  the  morning  of  the  ninth  of  October  some  one  waked  me 
and  said  Jerome  Beardslee  wras  at  the  door  in  a  buggy  and 
wanted  to  see  me.  What  could  Jerome  want  at  that  time  in 
the  morning,  and  why  should  he  come  in  a  buggy,  since  he 
lives  next  door  but  one  ?  I  got  up  and  tried  to  light  the  gas, 
but  there  was  none.  I  hurried  on  my  clothes  and  went  down. 
"  What  is  the  matter,  Jerome  ? "  "  There's  a  great  fire  down 
town,  and  it  is  spreading  fearfully.  Our  store  is  gone,  but  I 
got  the  books  out,  and  have  just  brought  them  home.  I  am 
going  back,  and  if  you  would  like  to  ride  with  me  you  can. 
I  think  you'll  be  in  time  to  see  your  place  go."  I  went,  and 
when  we  got  within  a  mile  of  the  fire  we  began  to  see  signs 
of  the  great  disaster.  Groups  of  men,  women  and  children 
(some  scantily  clad)  were  standing  by  such  household  goods 
as  they  had  brought  to  where  they  supposed  they  were  out 
of  the  reach  of  the  flames.  Team  after  team  added  to  the 
number  until  the  streets  were  lined  with  the  fugitives  and 
such  of  t*ieir  belongings  as  they  could  save. 

The  wind  blew  fiercely  from  the  south-west,  so  the  flames 
spread  less  rapidly  our  way,  but  on  the  north  side  nearly  all 
the  people  who  thought  their  goods  were  out  of  danger  had 
to  move  again  and  again,  and  finally  see  them  burn  for  the 
want  of  means  to  get  them  out  on  to  the  prairie  beyond 
the  farthest  houses,  four  miles  from  the  center.  Some  who 
placed  their  goods  on  the  lake  shore  where  there  was  a  beach, 
not  only  had  to  see  them  burn,  but  had  to  get  into  the  water 
to  save  their  lives.  The  heat  of  the  fire,  maddened  by  the 
tornado  it  had  caused,  was  beyond  conception.  I  saw  deli- 
cate looking  tongues  of  flame  shoot  across  an  open  space 
twenty  or  thirty  feet  wide,  and  a  marble  building  dissolve 
under  their  touch  as  if  it  had  been  of  sand.     The  action  of  a 


154  TIIK   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   WFE. 

gigantic  compound  blow-pipe  was  the  only  thing  to  which 
one  could  liken  those  streams  of  flame  and  their  effect. 
Nothing  could  stand  before  them.  In  the  presence  of  miles 
of  such  intense  heat  our  firemen  and  their  steam  engines 
were  as  impotent  as  children  with  toy  watering-pots  would 
have  been.  To  get  hose  near  enough  at  any  point  to  be  of 
any  use  would  be  to  see  it  curl  and  shrivel  as  if  it  had  been 
made  of  paper.  In  fact,  much  of  the  fire  apparatus  was  de- 
stroyed before  it  could  be  got  out  of  the  way.  No  complete 
idea  of  this  scene  can  be  had  without  keeping  before  the  mind 
the  fierce  wind,  filled  with  keen  cutting  sand  and  cinders  that 
hurled  great  flaming  brands  for  blocks  over  the  yet  unburnt 
houses.  When  the  fire  had  done  its  work  but  few  walls 
were  standing  as  landmarks.  We  could  not  tell,  in  the  busi- 
ness part  of  the  city,  where  the  streets  were.  Localities  that 
two  days  before  were  as  familiar  to  us  as  the  rooms  of  our 
own  houses  were  now  a  strange,  wild  desolation. 

I  was  in  time  to  see  the  costly  and  elegant  opera-house 
go.  I  could  not  get  near  enough  to  see  the  rear  building  in 
which  was  my  working-room  and  library.  I  wondered  if 
my  green  box  was  safe.  The  young  men  in  the  store  had 
laughed  among  themselves  a  good  deal  because  I  often  said, 
"  If  there's  a  fire,  save  that  green  box."  It  was  an  old  paper 
affair,  but  it  contained  my  daily  work  and  all  my  unpub- 
lished manuscripts.  We  had  built  a  large  brick  vault  in  the 
cellar  of  the  rear  building,  but  a  few  months  before,  to  make 
a  safe  place  for  the  plates  of  our  now  very  large  catalogue. 
It  was  the  duty  of  the  porter  to  put  the  green  box  in  the 
vault  with  the  other  valuables  at  night.  He  had  not  done 
so  at  this  time,  and  Mr.  Murray's  brother  Robert,  who  slept 
near,  and  was  hastily  looking  about  just  before  the  fire 
reached  there,  saw  it,  and  remembering  my  injunction,  saved 
it.  All  our  important  plates  were  in  the  vault,  excepting 
those  of  the  "  Song  King"  and  the  "  Curriculum."  -  They 


THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL    LIFE.  1 55 

were  in  use  at  the  printing  office,  and  were  destroyed.  New 
plates  of  the  "  Song  King  "  were  immediately  made  in  Cleve- 
land, but  I  revised  the  "  Curriculum,"  and  its  present  form 
is  the  result. 

One  of  the  noticeable  things  at  the  opera-house,  as  the 
fire  approached  it,  was  the  announcement  that  Theodore 
Thomas'  "  unrivaled  orchestra"  would  give  a  concert  there 
that  evening.  When  the  flames  enveloped  the  beautiful 
building  I  thought  of  their  fine  instruments,  some  of  which 
had  been  left  there,  and  my  mind  also  ran  over  a  list  of  the 
familiar  and  valuable  objects  belonging  to  us  that  were  then 
being  offered  up  in  that  fearful  holocaust — the  costly  coun- 
ters, desks,  and  general  fittings  of  oak  and  maple,  the  long 
lines  of  shelves  of  sheet  music,  the  cords  of  books  in  the 
basement,  the  hundreds  of  elegant  pianos  and  organs,  fine 
violins,  guitars  and  band  instruments,  the  still  greater  num- 
ber of  accordeons,  and  other  small  instruments,  strings, 
reeds,  etc.,  the  printing  office  and  presses,  and  the  fine  room 
in  which  F.  W.,  Mr.  Murray  and  myself  had  done  so  much 
pleasant  and  successful  work.  In  a  few  minutes  all  were 
gone.  It  was  sad,  but  the  calamity  was  so  general  and  so 
overwhelming  that  individual  losses  seemed  insignificant  in 
comparison,  even  though  they  reached  the  sum  of  a  quarter 
of  a  million,  as  ours  did. 

The  days  immediately  following  the  fire  were  passed  in 
anxious  waiting  to  see  if  the  vault  and  safes  had  protected 
our  plates  and  account  books.  It  was  some  days  before  they 
were  cool  enough  to  open  ;  when  they  were,  their  contents 
were  found  to  be  safe,  though  some  of  the  papers  were 
scorched.  Every  mail,  too,  brought  business  letters  that 
had  to  be  attended  to.  I  think  the  first  orders  for  goods 
were  sent  to  Cleveland  and  Cincinnati  to  be  filled,  but  it  was 
not  long  before  we  had  a  large  dwelling  house  on  Michigan 
avenue  fitted  up  and  stocked,  and  business  went  on.     The 


156  THE    STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

nights  at  first  were  filled  with  anxious  forebodings.  The 
city  was  in  total  darkness,  and  reports  were  rife  that  incen- 
diaries were  about  and  would  set  fires  for  pillage.  So  for 
weeks  a  patrol  was  organized  to  keep  watch  all  night,  and  in 
this  all  had  to  take  part.  Then  the  generous  letters  began 
to  come.  The  event  was  unprecedented,  and  the  feeling  it 
awoke  in  friend  for  friend,  and  in  the  whole  world  for  the 
city  was  also  unprecedented;  we  were  overwhelmed  with 
kindness  ;  but  all  that  is  too  well  known  to  need  repetition 
here.  I  will  reprint  from  the  So7ig  Messenger  but  one  after 
the  fire,  the  following: 

"  So  the  smoke  clears  away,  and  the  sun  shines  again,  and  from 
ever}'  side  sympathy  and  aid  pour  in.  Read  this  from  good  Mr.  Cur- 
wen,  the  extensive  publisher  of  the  tonic-sol-fa  system  in  England  : 

"  London,  November  10,  1871. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Root:  Our  agent,  at  8  Warwick  Lane,  says  he  knows 
Chicago  well,  and  that  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  your  fine  premises 
are  burned.  Even  if  you  are  fully  insured  this  interruption  of  busi- 
ness must  cause  you  heavy  loss  and  much  care.     I  am  very  sorry. 

"  Will  you  kindly  accept  the  enclosed  cheque  for  Twenty  Pounds, 
to  be  used  for  the  help  of  your  people  or  any  other  sufferers  by  the 
fire?  Kindly  let  them  know  that  it  is  from  one  who  has  delighted  in 
your  music  and  has  spread  it  abroad  in  England. 

"  My  sons  and  I  wish  to  be  kindly  remembered  to  your  two  sons. 

"  Hoping  to  hear  of  your  welfare,  I  am,  dear  Mr.  Root,  yours,  with 
cordial  respect,  John  Curwen." 

The  paper  goes  on  to  say:  "The  ^20  realized  $107.44, 
and  are  now  on  their  mission  of  blessing."  It  continues:  "  I 
ought  to  say  that  my  sons  visited  Mr.  Curwen  during  their 
late  stay  in  Europe,  and  were  delighted  with  the  excellent 
working  of  his  system ;  and  I  may  add  that  we  are  really 
tonic-sol-faists  in  this  country  as  to  the  matter  of  key  rela- 
tionship, the  difference  being  in  notation." 

As  soon  as  it  could  be  brought  about,  our  business  plans 
for  the  future  were  adjusted.  We  had  lost  all  our  stock,  but 
the  plates  and  copyrights  remained,  and  if  I  would  give  up 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   UFE.  1 57 

some  unencumbered  real  estate  that  I  had,  Mr.  Cady  and  my 
brother  would,  with  the  above  and  the  insurance  money 
they  hoped  to  get,  undertake  to  pay  the  debts  in  full  and  go 
on  with  the  business.  I  finally  agreed  to  this  proposition, 
and  then  two  firms  were  formed.  The  first  consisted  of  my 
brother  E.  T.,  Mr.  Cady,  and  Mr.  William  Lewis,  the  well- 
known  violinist,  who  had  been  with  us  for  some  years  in 
charge  of  the  "imported  goods"  department.  They  con- 
tinued under  the  name  of  Root  &  Cady,  and  proposed  to  deal 
only  in  pianos,  organs,  and  the  merchandise  of  Mr.  Lewis' 
department.  The  other  firm  consisted  of  my  two  sons,  my 
brother  William  and  myself.  We  took  the  name  of  Geo. 
F.  Root  &  Sons,  and  started  with  the  expectation  of  confin- 
ing ourselves  to  sheet  music,  music  books,  and  music  pub- 
lishing. In  this  arrangement  I  need  not  say  it  was  clearly 
understood  that  I  was  to  be  free  to  resume  my  professional 
life  untrammeled  by  business  cares.  My  son  F.  W.  also 
provided  for  himself  much  in  the  same  way.  William  and 
Charles  were  to  manage  the  business,  whatever  it  might  be. 
One  of  Root  &  Cady's  first  acts  was  to  sell  the  book  cat- 
alogue, plates  and  copyrights  to  John  Church  &  Co.,  of  Cin- 
cinnati, and  the  sheet  music  plates  and  copyrights  to  S. 
Brainard's  Sons,  Cleveland.  These  sales  realized  a  large 
sum — in  the  neighborhood  of  one  hundred  and  thirty  thou- 
sand dollars,  if  I  remember  rightly — but  so  many  insurance 
companies  failed  that  they  did  not  get  half  their  insurance, 
and  when  the  hard  times,  which  followed  the  fire,  came  on, 
could  not  meet  the  great  liabilities  they  had  assumed,  and 
were  obliged  to  close  up.  With  the  assistance  of  a  wealthy 
friend  we  purchased  their  stock.  They  went  through  bank- 
ruptcy, and  Mr.  Cady  left  the  city.  My  brother  E.  T.  and 
Mr.  Lewis  then  started  in  again;  under  the  firm  name  of 
Root  &  Lewis,  and  we  (Geo.  F.  Root  &  Sons)  formed  a 
connection  with  John  Church  &  Co.,  of  Cincinnati.  The  last 


158  THE    STORY    OF    A.    MUSICAL    LIFE. 

named  arrangement  came  about  naturally,  because  this  Cin- 
cinnati firm  were  now  the  owners  and  publishers  of  our 
former  books,  which  were  still  successful,  and  they  desired 
to  continue  the  works  of  the  same  authors  on  their  list. 

From  the  re-adjustment  after  the  fire  I  was  in  my  old 
life  again — the  Normal  in  the  summer,  conventions  at  vari- 
ous times  and  in  various  places,  and  at  my  desk  making 
books  and  songs  the  rest  of  the  time.  The  Normal  of  1872 
was  held  during  the  vacation  of  the  Chicago  University,  in 
their  fine  building  overlooking  Lake  Michigan,  with  Carl 
Zerrahn,  Robert  Goldbeck,  F.  W.  Root,  P.  P.  Bliss,  James 
Gill,  O.  Blackman,  C.  A.  Havens,  and  others,  as  my  co- 
workers. We  had  also  at  this  session  Miss  Cornelia  Walker, 
now  at  the  head  of  one  of  the  Normal  schools  of  California, 
as  teacher  of  the  "  art  of  teaching."  The  University  had 
shortly  before  conferred  upon  me  the  degree  of  Doctor  of 
Music,  and  I  speak  of  it  here  to  remark  that  in  this  country 
that  title  is  only  a  matter  of  courtesy.  No  examinations  are 
required  before  it  is  given,  and  therefore  it  does  not  neces- 
sarily imply  high  musical  attainments  on  the  part  of  the 
recipient.  I  know  of  but  two  or  three  American-made  Doc- 
tors of  Music  that  I  think  could  pass  the  examination  re- 
quired for  that  degree  in  England,  and  I  regret  to  say  I  am 
not  one  of  them. 

From  an  account  in  the  Song  Messenger  of  this  Normal, 
the  following  item  comes  in  properly  : 

"  Another  day  toward  the  close  of  the  session  is  memorable  as 
bringing  to  our  knowledge  an  even4,  of  deep  and  sad  interest  to  us 
all.     A  telegram  was  brought  which  read: 

"  '  Father  died  peacefully  last  night  at  ten  o'clock. 

Henry  Mason.'  " 

How  subduing  was  the  effect,  and  how  spontaneous  and 
unanimous  was  the  passage  of  the  following  resolution  : 


THE    STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL    LIFE.  1 59 

"Resolved,  That  in  the  death  of  Dr.  Lowell  Mason  we  recognize 
the  loss  of  one  who  in  matters  of  church  music  and  musical  educa- 
tion in  this  country  is  the  great  reformer  of  the  century." 

All  felt  that  as  teachers,  choir  leaders  or  writers  of 
people's  music  we  owed  a  debt  of  eternal  gratitude  to  the 
man  whose  long  life  and  noble  work  and  powerful  influence 
had  done  so  much  to  place  the  musical  profession  in  the 
honorable  position  it  occupies  at  the  present  time. 


160  THE    STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

1873-1886,  CHICAGO  —  BUSINESS  RE-ADJUSTMENTS  —  VARIOUS 
NORMAL  INSTITUTES  AND  CONVENTIONS — THE  MEMORABLE 
CENTENNIAL  YEAR — PARK  CHURCH  AT  ELMIRA — GRASSHOP- 
PERS— A  FURTHER  LIST  OF  BOOKS — ENGLISH  EDITIONS — 
PASSAGE   TAKEN  TO  CROSS  THE  WATER    AGAIN. 

A  FTKR  the  purchase  of  the  stock  of  the  old  firm  in  1873, 
^~*-  Geo.  F.  Root  &  Sons  went  on  doing  a  general  music 
business,  John  Church  &  Co.  and  ourselves  being  the  pub- 
lishers of  our  works.  It  was  a  time  of  great  business  de- 
pression, but  we  had  a  "  tower  of  strength  "  in  the  Cincin- 
nati house,  and  Mr.  Church's  wise  counsels  guided  us  safely 
through.  We  still  published  the  Song  Messenger,  and  in  its 
list  of  those  who  then  worked  more  or  less  with  us  are  the 
names  of  Palmer,  Bliss,  Straub,  Matthews,  Murray,  Case, 
McGranahan,  Gill,  Blackman  and*  Whittemore.  Mr.  Mat- 
thews, F.  W.  Root  and  myself  were,  in  turn,  editors  of  the 
Messenger,  but  all  connected  with  us  reported  in  it  in  re- 
gard to  what  they  were  doing. 

The  Normal  of  '73  was  also  held  in  the  Chicago  Univer- 
sity, with  Faculty  as  in  '72,  excepting  that  Florence  Zieg- 
feld,  the  present  head  of  the  Chicago  College  of  Music,  was 
the  principal  piano  teacher,  Louis  Falk,  organist,  and  Elias 
Bogue,  with  F.  W.  Root,  in  voice  teaching.  The  Normal 
of  '74  was  held  in  the  U.  P.  College,  in  Monmouth,  111. ;  F. 
W.  Root,  Carl  Wolfsohn  and  myself,  principals  ;  Bliss,  Os- 
car Mayo  and  Mrs.  Cooley  (model  lessons),  assistants.  The 
Normal  of  '75  was  in  Somerset,  Pa. ;  G.  F.  R.,  principal,  C. 
C.  Case,  James  McGranahan,  T.  P.  Ryder,  Frank  Walker 
C.  C.  Williams  and  myself,  teachers. 


THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE.  l6l 

In  1864  my  home  in  Chicago  was  at  the  corner  of  Wa- 
bash avenue  and  Van  Buren  street.  I  sold  the  place  in  '69. 
In  '71  the  fire  swept  it  away.  In  '72  some  fine  brick  stores 
were  built  on  the  lot,  one  of  which  we  occupied,  but  we  did 
not  stay  there  long.  When  the  old  business  center  was  re- 
built we  went  back  near  to  where  the  opera-house  formerly 
stood.  In  '74  a  second  great  fire  visited  Chicago.  If  the  first 
had  not  been  so  vast,  this  one  would  have  made  some  noise 
in  the  world,  for  it  burned  many  acres  of  houses  and  stores, 
and  destroyed  millions  of  property.  It  reached  just  far 
enough  to  take  the  building  we  had  just  left,  and  so  the  site 
of  my  former  home  was  burned  over  for  the  second  time. 

In  '74  important  changes  took  place.  My  son  Charles 
sold  his  interest  in  our  publications  to  John  Church  &  Co., 
and  went  into  other  business,  and  the  Root  &  Sons  Music 
Co.  was  formed.  In  '75  the  firms  of  Root  &  Lewis  and 
Chandler  &  Curtiss  joined  us.  John  Church  &  Co.  were 
the  principal  owners  of  the  stock  of  the  new  company,  and 
their  abundant  resources  at  once  gave  it  standing  and  se- 
curity. At  the  suggestion  of  my  brother,  E.  T.  Root, 
Charles  C.  Curtiss  was  appointed  manager.  I  had  been 
nominally  free  from  business  cares  since  the  fire,  but  really 
had  not  been  without  some  anxiety  consequent  upon  start- 
ing again  with  so  small  a  capital.  But  now  our  interests 
were  in  safe  and  strong  hands,  and,  to  adapt  Mr.  Longfel- 
low's famous  lines  to  my  case — the  cares  that  had  infested 
my  day,  folded  their  tents  like  the  Arabs  and  as  silently 
stole  away,  and  I  gave  myself  once  more,  with  whole-hearted 
freedom,  to  my  professional  work. 

All  who  had  been  connected  with  us  as  Normal  students, 
and  afterwards  as  teachers  and  authors,  now  looked  to  the 
Cincinnati  house  as  publishing  headquarters,  and  in  '76  the 
Song  Messenger  was  merged  into  The  Musical  Visitor,  which 
from  that  time  became  our  medium  of  communication  with 


1 62  THE    STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

the  musical  public.  Ah,  memorable  '76!  We  went  to  the 
great  Centennial  celebration  in  Philadelphia,  and  then  to  our 
pleasant  Normal  in  Towanda,  Pa. ;  Case,  McGranahan,  Ry- 
der, Coffin,  Williams,  Bliss,  F.  W.  Root  and  myself,  teachers. 
We  then  separated  for  our  autumn  and  winter  work. 
Toward  the  close  of  the  j^ear  our  beloved  Bliss  and  his  wife 
went  down  into  that  valley  of  fire  and  death  at  Ashtabula, 
disappearing  from  the  earth  as  completely  as  did  Elijah  in 
his  flaming  chariot.  Not  a  shred  or  vestige  of  tliem  or  their 
belongings  was  ever  found.  Mr.  Bliss'  unselfish  devotion  to 
his  work  made  for  him  such  friends  while  he  lived  and  such 
mourners  when  he  died  as  few  men  have  ever  had.  It  was 
also  in  '76,  at  Christmas  time,  in  Delaware,  O.,  that  the  Na- 
tional Music  Teachers'  Association  held  its  first  session.  I 
was  glad  to  aid  at  the  beginning  of  that  important  enterprise, 
but  have  not  participated  since,  as  the  subsequent  meetings 
have  been  in  the  summer  when  Normal  or  something  else 
demanded  my  attention. 

Normal  had  now  settled  down  into  four  weeks'  sessions, 
beginning  always  on  the  first  Monday  after  the  Fourth  of 
July.  In  '77  it  was  held  in  Warren,  O. ;  in  '78  in  Richmond, 
Ind. ;  in  '79  and  '8o  in  Jamestown,  on  Chautauqua  Lake, 
New  York;  in  '81,  Erie,  Pa.;  in  '82,  Kittanning,  Pa.,  and  a 
short  term  in  Brookville,  Pa. ;  in  '83  in  Erie  again,  and  a 
short  session  in  Eau  Claire,  Wis.,  and  in  '85  in  Elmira,  N.  Y. 

This  Institution  usually  goes  to  a  town  because  some 
musical  person  in  it,  in  whom  the  people  have  confidence, 
represents  its  advantages  to  prominent  citizens  who  bring 
about  the  necessary  offer  of  buildings  and  the  guarantee  of 
a  certain  number  of  scholarships.  All  other  things  being 
equal,  the  coolest  towns  have  the  preference.  We  delight 
in  being  by  Lake  Michigan,  or  Erie,  or  lovely  Chautauqua, 
though  Kittanning  and  Brookville,  Pa.,  and  Eau  Claire, 
Wis.,  were  on  pleasant  rivers,  which  answered  a  good  pur- 


THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   UFE.  1 63 

pose.  Elmira,  N.  Y.,  could  not  offer  much  in  the  way  of  a 
river,  but  she  could  give  us  the  most  beautiful  and  conven- 
ient place  for  our  work  that  we  have  ever  had. 

Picture  to  yourself  a  long  stone  structure  on  one  side  of 
a  small  park,  with  great  trees  in  front  and  almost  bending 
over  it.  At  one  end  a  large  auditorium  with  a  fine  organ  ; 
in  the  center  a  Sunday-school  room  below,  and  a  lecture  and 
entertainment  room  above,  each  capable  of  seating  four  hun- 
dred persons,  and  at  the  other  end  the  "  church  home,"  con- 
sisting of  parlors,  library,  some  lodging  rooms,  and  all  the 
conveniences  of  a  well-ordered  house,  all  connected  and  un- 
der one  roof,  and  you  have  Park  Church,  the  home  of  the 
Normal  of  '85.  It  must  have  been  more  than  thirty  years 
ago  that  Thomas  K.  Beecher,  nearly  the  youngest  member 
of  that  celebrated  family,  was  settled  over  that  society  in 
Elmira.  He  gradually  got  his  people  to  look  to  the  day 
when  a  building  should  be  reared  which  should  contain 
not  only  a  suitable  audience  room  for  Sunday  worship,  but 
rooms  and  conveniences  for  the  enjoyment  of  the  young 
people,  and  a  home  for  the  poor  wayfarer  who  might  need 
temporary  shelter  from  poverty  or  evil  influences.  This 
was  done,  but  not  until  all  the  money  was  raised  or  pledged 
to  pay  for  it — one  hundred  and  thirty-two  thousand  dollars. 
Mr.  Beecher  had  constantly  urged  that  there  be  no  debt  to 
be  a  drag  upon  them  when  their  magnificent  plan  went  into 
operation. 

It  was  characteristic  of  pastor  and  people  to  say,  as  they 
did  to  us :  "  Your  work  is  calculated  to  improve  and  help 
people.  That  is  what  this  building  is  for.  Use  it  during 
our  church  vacation.  The  whole  of  it  is  freely  placed  at 
your  disposal."  It  was  a  delightful  session — the  perfection 
of  the  building  for  the  various  exercises  of  the  class,  the 
interest  of  the  people  as  shown  in  the  attendance  upon  re- 
citals and  concerts,  and  the  assurance  of  a  welcome  if  we 


164  THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

would  return,  no  one  who  was  there  will  ever  forget.  We 
should  have  returned  the  next  summer,  but  I  went  to  Eng- 
land, of  which  visit  I  will  speak  later. 

The  general  scope  and  work  of  the  Institution  may  be 
seen  in  the  subjoined  daily  program  of  one  of  the  above 
named  sessions  : 

MORNING. 

Preliminary,  from  8:15  to  8:55,  Intermediate  Harmony  Class. 

9:00.  Opening  Exercises  (devotional),  followed  by  G.  F.  Root's 
specialties—  Vocal  Drill  and  Notation  for  Elementary  Singing 
Classes. 

10:10.  Recess. 

10:20.    Voice  Culture  in  Class,  Frederic  W.  Root. 

11:05.  Recess. 

11:15.  Harmony  and  Composition — in  two  classes.  Elementary, 
G.  F.  Root ;  Advanced,  F.  W.  Root. 

AFTERNOON. 

2:00.  Clubs  for  the  practice  of  conducting  and  of  giving  class 
lessons,  called,  respectively,  the  "  Conducting  Club "  and  the 
"  Teachers'  Club."  Each  member  acts  as  conductor  or  teacher  in 
turn,  and  is  criticised  at  the  close  of  his  work. 

3:00.  Sight  Reading  and  Drill  in  Anthems,  Glees  and  Part- 
Songs. 

3:50.  Recess. 

4:00.  Monday  and  Wednesday,  Emil  Liebling's  Pianoforte  Re- 
citals. Tuesday  and  Thursday,  Vocal  Recitals,  bringing  out  the 
Soloists  and  Members  of  the  Institute  in  individual  performances. 

4:45.  Close. 

EVENING. 

7:45.  Monday,  Tuesday,  Wednesday  and  Thursday  evenings, 
Chorus  and  Oratorio  practice,  Cari,  Zerrahn,  conductor.  Con- 
certs every  Friday  evening,  closing  with  "  The  Messiah  "  on  the 
31st. 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   EIFE. 


I65 


PROGRAMS  OF  PIANOFORTE  RECITALS. 


3- 


First  Recital. 
Monday,  July  6th,  at  4  p.  m. 

1.  Andante,  Op.  32 Thalberg 

\a.  Solitude Hoffman 

2-    \b.  Cricket  Polka    .   .     L.  De Meyer 

a.  Barcarolle Rubinstein 

b.  Fantasie  "  L,ucrezia  Borgia  " 

Bendel 
Second  Recital. 
Wednesday,  July  8th,  at  4  p.  M. 
(a.  Gavotte,  B  minor Bach 

1.  <  b.  Andante,  A  major  ....  Mozart 
{c.  Perpetuum  Mobile  ....  IVeber 
1  a.  Menuet,  A-flat    .    .    .   Boccherini 

2.  <  b.  Albumblatt,  E  minor  .  .  Grieg 
(  c.  The  Two  Skylarks  .  Leschelitzky 

a.  Feu  Follet Liebling 

b.  Nocturne,  Op.  17    ....  Brassin 

c.  Polonaise Scharwenka 

Third  Recital. 
Monday,  July  13TH,  at  4  p.  M. 

1.  Recollections  of  Home  ....  Mills 
I  a.  Scherzino,  Op.  18  .   .  Moszkowski 

2.  <  b.  Nocturne,  A  major    ....  Field 

{  c.  Gavotte,  E  minor Silas 

j  a.  Silver  Spring Bendel 

3*  j  b.  I*a  Cachoucha Raff 

Fourth  Recital. 
Wednesday,  July  15TH,  at  4  p.  m. 

la.  Sonata,  G  minor  .   .    .   .Scarlatti 
'    (b.  Prelude  and  Fugue,  D  major, 

Bach 

2.  Sonata  Pathetique,  Op.  13,  Beethoven 

{a.  Soiree  de  Vienne,  No.  7  .  .  Liszt 
b.  Nocturne,  Op  9,  No.  2  .  .  Chopin 
c.  Gavotte  Moderne    .   .    .    Liebling 

Fifth  Recital. 

Monday,  July  20TH,  at  4  p.  m. 

1.  Rondo  Capriccioso,  Op.  14, 

Mendelssohn 
la.  Albumblatt    ...  .   Liebling 

\b.  L,e  Tourbillon Goldbeck 

Valse  Caprice,  Op.  29   .   .    .   Mills 

3.  -\  0.  Melody  in  F Rubinstein 

Polka  Fantastique    .    .   Brandeis 


Sixth  Recital.— Historical  Program. 
Wednesday,  July  22D,  at  4  p.  m. 

(a.  Sonata,  A  major,  Scarlatti,  1683- 
I757- 
b.  Prelude    and    Fugue,    C    minor, 
Bach,  1685-1750. 

c.  Variations,    E    major,    Haendel, 
1 684- 1 759. 

d.  Turkish    March,    Mozart,    1756- 
1791. 

Moonlight  Sonata,  Beethoven,  1770- 
1827. 

I  a.  Rondo    Brillante,    Weber.    1786- 
1826. 
b.  Menuet,  Schubert,  1797-1828. 

c.  Songs  Without  Words,  Mendels- 
sohn, 1809-1847. 

d.  Ende  vom  Ljed,  Schumann,  1810- 
1S56. 

a.  Marche  Funebre,    Chopin,    1809- 
1849. 

b.  La  Fileuse,  Raff,  1822. 

c.  Kammenoi-Ostrow,  .  Rubinstein, 
1830. 

ji.  Polonaise,  E  major,  Liszt,  181 1. 

Seventh  Recital. 
Monday,  July  27TH,  at  4  p.  m. 

1 


a.  Impromptu,  Op.  29, 

b.  Etude,  Op.  10,  No.  5, 

c.  Mazurka,  Op.  33,  No.  4, 

d.  Valse,  Op.  34,  No.  1, 

a.  Nocturne,  Op.  37,  No.  2,  | 

b.  Scherzo,  Op.  31, 

a.  Berceuse,  Op.  57, 

b.  Polonaise,  Op.  53, 


Chopin 


(O. 


Eighth  Recital. 
Wednesday,  July  29TH,  at  4  p.  m. 

1.  G  minor  Fugue Bach-Liszt 

I  a.  Flashes  from  the  West,  Goldbeck 

2.  ■<  b.  Silver  Spring Mason 

f  c.  Hungarian  Melody   ....   Liszt 
la.  Romanza,  Op.  5  .   .  Tschaikowsky 

3*    \b.  Marche  Heroique  .   .  Saint-Saens 


In  looking  over  the  list  of  Musical  Associations  that  I 
have  conducted  since  the  fire,  I  find  it  too  long  even  to 
mention.  As  I  glance  at  the  list,  however,  my  eye  catches 
the  line:  "Centennial  celebration  of  the  settlement  of  Shef- 
field, Mass.,  June   19,  '76."     This  is  my  native  town,  and 


1 66  THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFK. 

the  musical  exercises  there  were  of  peculiar  interest  to  the 
people  who  knew  my  parents,  and .  to  myself  on  their  ac- 
count. I  was  a  small  boy  when  we  moved  to  North  Read- 
ing, but  I  remembered  well  the  beautiful  Berkshire  moun- 
tains that  looked  so  near  and  were  so  far,  the  lovely  Housa- 
tonic  which  flows  through  the  valley,  and  the  wide  street 
and  magnificent  elms  of  the  dear  old  village  which  I  am 
proud  to  claim  as  my  birthplace.  Among  the  kinfolk  that 
welcomed  me  on  this  occasion  was  Dr.  Orville  Dewey,  one 
of  America's  eminent  divines,  who  was  there  also  at  his 
birthplace.  That  brings  to  my  mind  that  Dr.  Dewey  and 
Win.  Cullen  Bryant,  who  was  also  a  native  of  Berkshire 
County,  were  both  school-mates  of  my  father,  and  a  few 
years  before,  while  I  was  engaged  in  some  musical  work  in 
Great  Barrington  (the  next  town),  Mr.  Bryant  was  there, 
and  I  had  the  pleasure  of  a  few  kind  words  from  him  in 
remembrance  of  his  old  school-fellow. 

As  I  look  along  the  list,  the  word  "  grasshoppers " 
catches  my  eye  and  brings  to  mind  a  Avagon  ride  from  a 
convention  in  Clarinda,  la.,  to  another  at  College  Springs, 
fifteen  miles  distant,  and  a  description  that  the  driver  gave 
me  of  the  ravages  of  those  terrible  pests.  During  the  con- 
vention I  was  introduced  to  one  of  the  large  farmers  who 
had  suffered  by  them,  and  was  greatly  interested  in  his 
graphic  description  of  what  had  befallen  him  :  "  We  had  had 
two  years  of  light  crops,"  he  began,  "and  I  needed  some 
good  wheat  and  a  lot  of  it  the  worst  way,  so  I  put  in  six 
hundred  acres,  and  you  never  saw  anything  so  fine  as  that 
was  when  it  was  about  half  grown.  I  was  happy !  That 
crop  was  going  to  fix  me  all  right.  Well,  I  drove  in  here 
to  church  one  Sunday  morning — I  live  about  four  miles  out 
— and  when  I  got  back  there  wasn't  a  spear  of  my  wheat 
standing  ;  the  ground  where  it  stood  was  as  black  as  if  it  had 
been  burnt  over,  and  the  'hoppers  had  traveled  on."     "  But 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  1 67 

you  lived  through  it,"  I  said.  "  Oh,  yes,"  he  answered,  "I'm 
all  right  now." 

In  '81  Mr.  E.  V.  Church,  Mr.  John  Church's  nephew, 
took  the  management  of  the  business,  Mr.  Curtiss  having 
left  for  a  trip  to  Europe.  Mr.  Lewis  had  already  made 
other  business  arrangements,  and  now  my  brother,  E.  T., 
sold  his  stock  in  the  company  to  go  into  business  with  his 
sons.  The  arrangements  thus  described  remain  to  the  pres- 
ent time,  with  the  exception  that  John  Church  &  Co.  be- 
came tired  of  the  inconvenience  of  occupying  stores  owned 
by  other  people,  and  bought  the  white  marble  building  at 
the  corner  of  Wabash  avenue  and  Adams  street,  which  fine 
premises  we  occupy  now. 

My  books,  after  the  fire  and  up  to  my  second  trip  abroad 
in  '86,  were:  "  The  New  Curriculum,"  "The  Glory,"  "The 
Hour  of  Praise,"  "  The  Guide  to  the  Pianoforte,"  "  The 
Cabinet  Organ  Companion,"  "  The  Normal  Musical  Hand- 
Book,"  "  The  New  Song  Era  "  (with  my  son  F.  W.),  "The 
Choir  and  Congregation,"  "  The  Mannerchor,"  "  The  Trum- 
pet of  Reform,"  "  The  Model  Organ  Method,"  "The  Palace 
of  Song,"  "The  Realm  of  Song,"  "The  Chorus  Castle," 
"  The  Teachers'  Club,"  "  The  Organist  at  Home,"  "  First 
Years  in  Song  Land,"  "Our  Song  World  "  (with  C.  C.  Case), 
"  Pure  Delight  "  and  "  Wondrous  Love  "  (also  with  Mr.  Case), 
and  the  following  cantatas :  In  the  first  one,  "  The  Song 
Tournament,"  I  was  assisted  in  preparing  the  libretto  by 
Palmer  Hartsough,  one  of  our  Normals,  who  has  great  inge- 
nuity in  adapting  words  to  music,  and  then  I  made  the  valued 
acquaintance  of  Hezekiah  Butterworth,  of  Boston,  the  well- 
known  author  and  poet,  who  prepared  the  librettos  to 
"Under  the  Palms,"  "Catching  Kriss  Kringle,"  "David,  the 
Shepherd  Boy,"  "The  Name  Ineffable,"  "The  Choicest 
Gift,"  and  "Faith  Triumphant.'.'  Then  followed  "Flower 
Praise  "  and  "  Santa  Claus'  Mistake,"  with  librettos  by  my 


1 68  THE    STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL    LIFE. 

daughter,  Clara  Louise  Burnham.  Of  the  Sunday-school 
and  Gospel  songs,  not  before  mentioned,  the  following  are 
best  known  :  "  Why  do  you  wait,  dear  brother?  "  "Jewels," 
"  Ring  the  bells  of  heaven,"  "  Knocking,  knocking,  who  is 
there?  '  "Along  the  river  of  time,"  "Where  are  the  reap- 
ers?" "We  are  watching,  we  are  waiting,"  "The  beacon 
light,"  "  Because  He  loved  me  so,"  "  Altogether  lovely," 
"  Never  give  up  the  right  way,"  and  "  Behold,  the  Bride- 
groom cometh."    . 

"  Under  the  Palms  "  was  the  first  cantata  to  unite  adults 
and  children  (the  choir  and  Sunday-school)  in  a  connected 
performance,  and  its  success  was  immediate.  Not  long 
after  its  publication  in  1880  I  received  a  letter  from  the 
London  Sunday-school  Union,  saying  that  they  had  issued 
that  work,  and  that  it  was  being  extensively  sung  through- 
out the  kingdom.  The  letter  enclosed  a  gratuity  in  the 
shape  of  an  English  bank-note,  and  further  said  if  I  would 
write  them  another  cantata  of  the  same  kind  they  would  pay 
a  regular  royalty  on  it.  "The  Choicest  Gift  "  was  the  re- 
sult of  that  request,  but  in  the  meantime  the  firm  of  John 
Curwen  &  Sons  (consisting  now  only  of  the  sons,  the  father 
being  dead)  wrote  me  that  I  should  soon  receive  an  English 
copy  of  "  David,  the  Shepherd  Boy,"and  that  they  proposed 
to  pay  a  voluntary  royalty  on  all  copies  of  it  that  they  sold. 
This  was  a  purely  friendly  and  generous  act  on  their  part, 
as  all  American  compositions  were  as  free  to  them  as  theirs 
are  to  us.  They  issued  it  in  both  notations,  and  an  excel- 
lent English  musician  added  a  harmonium  accompaniment, 
which  is  printed  in  a  separate  book.  They  also  had  it  ar- 
ranged for  a  large  orchestra. 

About  this  time  I  received  a  letter  from  Messrs.  Bailey 
&  Ferguson,  of  Glasgow,  Scotland,  to  know  if  I  would  write 
a  cantata  for  them.  My  publishers  soon  arranged  the  mat- 
ter, and  "  Faith  Triumphant  "  was  the  result.     An  arrange- 


THE   STORY   OF  A    MUSICAL   LIFE.  1 69 

ment  was  made  to  furnish  the  Glasgow  house  a  set  of  plates 
by  duplicating  them  as  the  book  went  through  the  press  in 
Cincinnati. 

I  had  long  desired  to  go  to  England  once  more,  and  it 
now  occurred  to  me  that  it  would  be  pleasant  to  get  to  Glas- 
gow soon  after  my  cantata,  and  perhaps  do  something  in  the 
way  of  helping  it  start  in  Scotland.  So  when  I  found  my 
publishers  thought  it  a  good  plan  I  decided  to  go.  After  I 
had  secured  my  passage  I  received  a  third  letter  from  the 
Iyondon  Sunday-school  Union  about  a  third  cantata  for 
them,  to  which  I  replied  that  I  would  call  in  a  few  days  and 
talk  it  over. 


170  THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

ON  BOARD  THE  STEAMSHIP  ETHIOPIA — GLASGOW — FIRST  SUN- 
DAY IN  LONDON  —  ST.  MARTIN'S-IN-THE-FIELDS  —  INTER- 
LUDES—  THE  LONDON  SUNDAY-SCHOOL  UNION — THE  CUR- 
WENS  —  VOLUNTARY  ROYALTIES  —  HERNE  HOUSE  —  MR. 
EVANS   AND   THE    LONDON    PUBLIC   SCHOOLS. 

ON  July  17,  1886,  I  found  myself  on  board  the  steamship 
Ethiopia,  of  the  Anchor  L,ine,  bound  for  Glasgow,  Scot- 
land. 

It  is  interesting  to  observe  the  change  that  comes  over 
some  people  at  the  beginning  of  a  sea-voyage,  as  the  billows, 
which  at  first  seem  to  them  so  grand  or  so  graceful,  gradu- 
ally become  objects  of  utter  aversion  and  disgust — but  I  will 
not  enlarge.  It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  in  our  case  on  the 
fourth  day  out  two-thirds  of  the  sick  ones  were  back  to  their 
rations,  and  we  had  an  excellent  voyage. 

We  had  a  good  deal  of  music  as  we  steamed  along,  there 
being  there  a  piano  and  organ,  and  several  good  players  and 
singers  among  the  passengers.  One  evening  the  program 
was  varied  by  a  mock  trial.  A  nice  old  gentleman  of  decid- 
edly patriarchal  appearance,  who  had  paid  a  good  deal  of 
attention  to  the  ladies,  "  without  distinction  of  age  or  pre- 
vious condition  of  servitude,"  as  the  indictment  read,  was 
accused  of  being  a  Mormon  elder,  seeking  proselytes.  Being 
conducted  in  good  taste  by  real  lawyers,  the  trial  afforded 
much  entertainment.  The  jury  was  composed  entirely  of 
ladies,  who  rendered  a  unanimous  verdict  in  the  prisoner's 
favor. 

Sunday  divine  service  was  conducted  by  a  clergyman 


THF   STORY    OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFK.  171 

from  Toronto.  There  is  an  opening  from  the  main  cabin  to 
the  room  above  called  the  music-room,  in  which  is  an  excel- 
lent organ  and  a  good  piano.  The  choir,  composed  of  a  few 
of  the  best  singers  among  the  passengers,  was  up  there,  and 
the  effect  was  good,  the  only  trouble  being  that  the  player 
had  to  be  guarded  lest  the  rolling  of  the  ship  should  send 
him  off  his  seat. 

On  Sunday  evening  at  twilight  the  organist  began  play- 
ing quietly  some  of  the  older  tunes,  gradually  coming  nearer 
those  of  modern  times.  The  passengers  gathered  round,  and 
when  he  got  to  "  Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee  "  and  "  The  Shin- 
ing Shore,"  began  to  join  in.  This  led  to  one  of  the  most 
genuine  Sunday  night  sings  that  I  have  ever  heard.  One 
after  another  called  for  his  or  her  favorite,  until  about  all  the 
well-known  tunes  and  gospel  songs  had  been  sung.  The 
roar  of  the  winds  and  dash  of  the  waves  outside  mingling 
with  our  music  would  have  perhaps  carried  our  thoughts 
back  to  the  Pilgrims'  "Songs  on  the  Sea,"  but  for  the  beat 
of  the  engine  and  the  knowledge  that  the  Pilgrim  fathers 
would  not  have  given  our  gospel  songs  a  place  in  their  stern 
devotions. 

The  last  day  of  our  voyage.  All  day  along  the  northern 
coast  of  Ireland.  "  Emerald  "  is  the  word,  as  we  look  on  the 
beautiful  fields  and  hills,  and  here  comes  the  Giant's  Cause- 
way. "  Don't  you  see  the  giant?  "  says  an  old  sailor.  "No," 
I  answer.  "  Why,  there,  leaning  his  arm  on  the  rock,  so, 
and  his  feet  down  in  the  water."  I  couldn't  see  him,  but  all 
could  see  the  wonderful  pillar-like  structure  stretching  along 
for  miles  like  gigantic  organ  pipes. 

And  now  up  the  Clyde.  Fields,  lawns,  forests,  hills,  towns, 
country  seats,  castles,  and  then  ship-yards  as  we  near  Glas- 
gow, where  the  great  iron  steamers  and  ships  of  the  world 
are  made.  Such  a  clang  and  clatter  as  the  thousands  of  ham- 
mers rang  out  upon  the  iron  ribs  and  plates  as  we  passed ! 


172  the:  story  of  a  musical  life. 

Glasgow  at  last.  To  the  hotel  and  then  to  Messrs. 
Bayley  &  Ferguson's  to  see  if  the  plates  of  the  new  can- 
tata had  come.  As  they  had  not  yet  arrived  I  went  back  to 
the  hotel  and  waited  until  Mr.  Bayley  should  have  leisure  to 
show  me  about  the  town. 

Glasgow  is  emphatically  a  stone  city.  Not  a  wooden 
structure  in  it,  and  I  think  Mr.  Bayley  said  there  was  none  of 
brick — at  any  rate,  I  saw  none.  I  was  not  prepared  to  find 
Glasgow  the  second  city  in  the  empire,  but  so  it  is. 

We  went  at  evening  to  a  park  just  out  of  the  city,  to 
hear  a  band  play — a  beautiful  place  of  hills  and  valleys,  fine 
trees  and  flowers.  "  Here,"  said  Mr.  Bayley,  "  where  the 
band  are  now  playing,  was  fought  the  battle  that  lost  Queen 
Mary  her  kingdom.  She  watched  it  from  the  hill  over  there 
(a  half  mile  or  so  off),  and  when  she  saw  the  day  was  against 
her,  fled,  and  was  never  again  seen  in  Scotland." 

Many  such  things  of  historic  interest  came  up,  but  I  will 
not  inflict  guide-book  talk  upon  my  readers.  It  is  sufficient 
to  say  that  I  passed  a  memorable  and  most  pleasant  day  with 
our  Glasgow  publisher — a  long  one,  too,  light  as  day  at  nine 
o'clock  at  night,  with  twilight  until  ten  or  after. 

As  the  plates  of  the  cantata  were  delayed  I  did  not  wait, 
but  took  the  "  Midland  "  to  London  the  next  day.  Tremen- 
dous speed,  but  so  smooth  that  one  could  read  or  write  with- 
out difficulty.  I  fell  into  conversation  with  an  intense  Eng- 
lishman, who  had  been  in  our  country,  and  who  was  loud  in 
his  preference  for  everything  English.  Speaking  of  the 
compartment  in  which  we  were  locked,  he  said :  "  Now,  if 
there  is  anybody  on  the  train  that  I  don't  want  to  see,  he 
can't  get  in  here."  I  did  not  answer,  "  If  there  is  anybody 
in  here  that  I  don't  want  to  see,  I  can't  get  out,"  but  I 
thought  it. 

I  enjoyed  some  nice  children  that  were  in  the  compart- 
ment, and  at  one  of  the  stations  bought  a  basket  of  straw- 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL    LIFE.  1 73 

berries  for  distribution.  It  was  a  good  sized  basket,  and, 
noticing  that  the  bottom  of  the  basket  was  not  half  way  up 
to  lessen  its  size,  I  said  to  myself,  "  How  much  more  honest 
they  are  over  here  in  these  matters,"  but  some  cabbage  leaves 
at  the  bottom  of  the  basket  threw  some  doubt  on  the  supe- 
rior honesty  of  these  neighbors  across  the  water. 

My  first  Sunday  in  London  I  attended  Argyle-square 
Church  in  the  morning  and  "  St.  Martin's-in-the-fields  "  in 
the  evening.  Fine  organs  and  fine  organists.  Excellent 
singers.  In  "  St.  Martin's  "  a  surpliced  choir  of  men  and 
boys  in  the  chancel,  and  admirable  music.  The  hymn  tunes 
ecclesiastical,  but  sung  in  quick  time,  so  nothing  heavy  about 
them.  All  this,  to  say  that  in  the  five  hymns  heard  in  the 
morning  and  evening,  there  was  ?iot  one  interlude.  There 
certainly  was  no  more  need  of  interludes  in  those  hymns 
than  there  would  have  been  in  the  chants,  which  were  so 
freely  sung.  How  inspiriting  they  were!  The  glow  that 
commenced  at  the  beginning  of  the  hymn  did  not  die  out  at 
the  end  of  each  verse,  but  increased  steadily  to  the  end  of 
the  song. 

In  this  connection  I  may  mention  that  I  was  in  Lanca- 
shire for  a  few  days  soon  after  my  arrival  in  England,  and  on 
the  occasion  of  a  religious  gathering  heard  some  hymns  sung 
by  a  congregation  of  perhaps  six  hundred  people.  The  tunes 
were  modern  English  ("  Barnby,"  "  Smart,"  etc.),  excellent 
in  every  way,  and  sung  heartily  and  well.  Fine,  strong  voices 
the  Lancashire  people  have — the  high  tones  good  and  in  tune. 
But  what  struck  me  especially  there,  also,  was  that  not  one 
interlude  was  played  during  the  evening.  I  was  a  good  deal 
interested  in  the  remark  of  a  friend  there,  who  said :  "  To  use 
an  Americanism,  interludes  are  \  played  out  '—they  are  only 
used  occasionally  to  lengthen  the  hymn  during  a  collection." 
I  am  sure  if  our  people  could  once  hear  how  a  hymn  of  five 
or  six  long  verses,  with  a  good  tune,  can  go  through,  not 


174  TH^    STORY    OK   A    MUSICAL    LIFE. 

only  without  weariness  but  with  positive  satisfaction,  they 
would  not  put  up  with  the  interruptions,  or  worse,  of  inter- 
ludes. 

How  they  hold  on  to  old  names  over  there  !  I  suppose 
St.  Martin's  ivas  in  the  "  fields,"  but  there  isn't  a  field  within 
miles  of  it  now.  It  is  in  the  very  heart  of  London.  In  its 
old  neighbor,  Westminster  Abbey,  I  was  much  attracted  by 
the  new  marble  bust  of  Longfellow,  especially  as  some  ad- 
mirer had  placed  a  delicate  bunch  of  flowers  in  the  folds  of 
the  marble,  making  a  sort  of  button-hole  bouquet.  Its  con- 
trast to  the  blackened  and  grim  surroundings  was  striking. 
But  to  return  to  musical  matters. 

The  London  Sunday-school  Union  publish  "  Under  the 
Palms"  and  "The  Choicest  Gift."  The  week  before  I  left 
home  I  received  a  letter  from  them,  saying  they  would  like 
another  cantata  of  that  grade.  I  called  upon  them  and  ar- 
ranged for  future  publications.  My  readers  doubtless  know 
that  the  English  people  have  been  using  our  American  music 
for  many  years.  All  Foster's  songs,  and,  in  fact,  pretty  much 
all  the  music  of  a  simple  and  medium  grade  that  has  been 
popular  in  America,  have  had  a  corresponding  popularity  in 
England.  The  first  American  cantata  printed  in  England 
was  "The  Flower  Queen."  Since  then  nearly,  if  not  quite, 
all  our  cantatas  have  appeared  there,  soon  after  their  issue  in 
America,  proving  not  that  we  are  better  composers  than  the 
English,  but  that  we  are  nearer  and  more  in  sympathy  with 
those  for  whom  we  write.  I  think  I  do  not  violate  any 
principle  of  propriety  if  I  say  that  a  high  official  in  the  Sun- 
day-school Union  added  that  the  American  cantatas  that  they 
had  published  had  in  their  music  a  "  go  "  (to  use  his  expres- 
sion) that  they  did  not  find  elsewhere.  This  induces  the 
Union  to  offer  a  royalty  for  what  the.y  want,  although  there 
is  no  international  copyright. 

I  had  word  from  Messrs.  Bayley  &  Ferguson,  of  Glasgow, 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  1 75 

at  this  time,  that  the  plates  of  "  Faith  Triumphant"  had  ar- 
rived, and  that  the  work  would  be  issued  promptly  in  the 
standard  and  tonic-sol-fa  notations. 

Years  ago,  when  Rev.  John  Curwen  was  commencing  the 
tonic-sol-fa  enterprise  he  used  a  great  deal  of  our  American 
singing-school  music,  which  is  free  there,  there  being  no 
international  copyright  law.  After  he  passed  away  his  sons 
continued  publishing  from  American  works  such  music  as 
suited  their  purpose,  but  since  the  tonic-sol-fa  movement  has 
grown  stronger,  and  its  adherents  have  made  higher  attain- 
ments, it  is  not  the  simpler  music  they  take  so  much  as  the 
cantatas — that  is,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned.  These,  begin- 
ning with  "  The  Flower  Queen  "  and  ending  with  "  Florens, 
the  Pilgrim  " — fourteen  in  all — are  printed  by  them  in  the 
staff  notation  as  well  as  in  "  tonic-sol-fa." 

I  say  all  this  to  explain  why  I,  who  neither  teach  nor 
write  in  tonic-sol-fa,  was  the  recipient  of  such  unbounded 
kindness  from  those  friends,  especially  from  Mr.  J.  Spencer 
Curwen,  the  present  head  of  the  movement,  at  whose  home 
I  stayed.  The  father  made  a  substantial  recognition  of  what 
he  was  pleased  to  consider  his  obligations  to  us  at  the  time 
of  the  Chicago  fire,  as  I  have  previously  mentioned,  and  the 
present  firm  of  their  own  accord  proposed  the  royalty  on 
"David,  the  Shepherd  Boy,"  of  which  I  have  spoken. 

Explaining  thus  how  it  happened  that  I  was  a  guest  at 
"  Heme  house,"  Mr.  Curwen's  residence,  and  to  some  extent 
why  Mr.  Curwen  took  so  much  trouble  to  help  me  to  hear 
the  representative  music  of  the  English  people,  I  will  state 
briefly  what  we  did.  Of  course  it  was  results  that  I  sought 
— to  know  how  the  people  sang  as  compared  with  ourselves, 
and  how  the  reading  and  understanding  of  music  compared 
with  the  same  things  on  our  side,  as  Mr.  Evans,  the  superin- 
tendent of  music  in  the  public  schools  of  London  (1,100 
schools,  300,000  children),  told  me  the  first  time  I  met  him: 


176  TIIK   STORY   OF  A   MUSICAL    LIFE. 

"  I  say  to  the  teachers,  take  what  method  you  please ;  I  shall 
report  you  according  to  results.  If  they  are  good  we  have 
no  fault  to  find  with  the  method."  This,  of  course,  is  emi- 
nently just.  Let  the  teacher  do  his  work  in  his  own  way; 
simply  hold  him  responsible  for  results.  (As  a  matter  of 
fact,  a  large  majority  of  the  London  schools  have  adopted 
tonic-sol-fa.) 

In  this  spirit  I  tried  to  listen  to  such  singing  as  I  had  an 
opportunity  to  hear  in  England.  First  the  voices,  how  they 
were  used,  then  the  words  and  expression,  then  the  reading 
and  comprehension  of  principles  (where  I  could  ascertain 
about  the  latter  things). 


THE    STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  1 77 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

THE  WORK  OV  THE  TONIC-SOL-FA  COLLEGE — MR.  BEHNKIv's 
LIGHT  TO  THE  THROAT — ENGLAND  AND  DICKENS  —  THE 
BOYS  OF  THE  MEDWAY  UNION — DON — THE  STAFFORDSHIRE 
POTTERIES  AND  THE  BURSLEM  SINGERS — EPPING  FOREST 
AND  THE  LAWN  PARTY  AT  FOREST  GATE — REV.  JOHN  CUR- 
WEN'S  GRAVE — THE  CHOIR  OF  THE  CHAPEL  ROYAL — MR.  J. 
A.  BIRCH   AND    "THE   HAYMAKERS." 

THE  Normal  term  at  the  Tonic-sol-fa  College  was  near 
its  close  when  I  arrived  in  London.  It  was  like  being 
at  home  to  be  there,  for  they  have  our  plans  for  their  work 
— teaching  class,  voice  class,  harmony  class,  etc.,  but  with 
some  improvements  not  dependent  upon  tonic-sol-fa  nota- 
tion which  we  might  well  adopt.  The  first  work  that  I 
heard  was  Mr.  McNaught's — teaching  the  students  to  teach 
children.  For  this  purpose  a  class  of  children  from  a  neigh- 
boring school  was  brought  in,  and  real  work  was  done,  the 
students  trying  their  hand  at  it  after  the  model  was  given. 
We  have  sometimes  had  juvenile  classes  at  our  Normals,  but 
not  just  in  this  way.  Capital  teacher,  Mr.  McNaught.  Crit- 
icisms keen  and  incisive,  but  given  with  such  vivacit}',  and 
at  the  same  time  with  such  evident  kindliness  and  desire  for 
the  students'  welfare,  that  the  severest  comments  were  re- 
ceived not  only  without  mortification  but  with  evident  en- 
joyment. Normal  workers  know  well  the  great  importance 
of  such  an  ability. 

Next,  Mr.  Proudman's  voice  class.  Admirable  work.  Mr. 
Proudman  will  be  remembered  as  the  conductor  who  took 
to  Paris  the  English  choir,  which  created  such  enthusiasm 


IjS  THE   STORY   OF  A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

in  an  international  competition  a  few  years  ago.  There  were 
some  new  points  in  Mr.  Proudman's  work  which  seemed  to 
me  very  important  and  useful. 

The  harmony  work  by  Mr.  Oakey  and  Mr.  McNaught 
interested  me  much.  Some  exercises  in  the  way  of  noting 
harmonies  as  they  were  heard  were  especially  good.  The 
idea  and  value  of  "ear  harmony"  as  distinguished  from 
"eye  harmony"  they   fully  understand  in  this  institution. 

I  had  been  much  interested  for  two  or  three  years  in 
reading  of  the  investigations  and  researches  of  Mr.  Emil 
Behnke  in  matters  pertaining  to  the  voice,  so  it  was  with 
much  pleasure  that  I  found  he  was  to  lecture  here,  and  that 
I  could  hear  him.  When  I  was  introduced  he  said:  "Ah! 
I  have  read  your  articles  on  the  voice  with  great  pleasure. 
They  abound  in  good  sense  and  valuable  ideas."  I  had  to 
say  that  the  articles  were  not  written  by  myself,  but  by  my 
son,  F.W.  Root  (but  I  dare  say  there  was  some  pride  in  the 
emphasis  with  which  I  uttered  the  words  "my  son"). 

Think  of  applying  an  electric  light  of  thirty  thousand 
candle  power  to  the  throat  to  see  what  is  going  on  inside ! 
But  let  me  repeat  how  he  explained  the  experiment  as  well 
as  I  can  remember  it.  He  began  by  saying :  "  Hold  your 
open  hand  close  to  a  strong  light  and  you  can  see  something 
of  the  light  through  where  the  fingers  join  together;  or  hold 
a  light  behind  the  ear  and  the  same  transparency  may  be 
observed.  So  I  thought  a  very  powerful  light  might  be  so 
brought  to  bear  upon  the  outside  of  the  throat  that  the  vocal 
cords  inside  would  get  light  enough  to  be  reflected  in  a  mir- 
ror, and  in  that  way  reveal  their  different  positions  for  the 
different  registers  of  the  voice.  I  applied  to  Sir  Win.  Sie- 
mens (a  distinguished  electrician  of  London)  for  the  use  of 
apparatus  to  try  my  experiment.  This  was  kindly  granted, 
and  I  arranged  the  light  in  a  box  with  a  tube  to  the  throat 
which  concentrated  and  directed  the  light  to  the  point  to  be 


THE   STORY   OF  A   MUSICAL    LIFE.  179 

investigated."  Without  going  further  into  particulars,  I  will 
only  say  his  experiment  was  successful,  and  he  showed  pho- 
tographs of  the  vocal  cords  in  various  positions  caused  by 
different  pitches  of  the  voice. 

They  do  know  how  to  treat  boys'  voices  in  England,  at 
least  the  teachers  whose  work  I  have  seen,  do.  But  I  ought 
to  say  that  Mr.  Curwen,  sparing  no  trouble  nor  expense, 
arranged  for  me  to  hear  the  best.  Our  first  trip  was  to 
Chatham  and  Rochester,  which  practically  form  one  town, 
being  on  either  side  of  the  river  Medway,  about  forty  miles 
from  London.  The  first  thought  on  arriving  there  was  of 
one  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  early  adventures.  It  is  surprising 
how  strong  a  hold  Dickens'  stories  have  upon  the  American 
mind.  I  found  I  was  not  alone  in  thinking  of  Dickens  the  first 
thing  when  I  came  across  a  name,  or  place,  or  scene  that  he 
has  mentioned  or  described.  We  might  almost  say  that  it  is 
not  so  much  that  Dickens  describes  England  as  that  Eng- 
land illustrates  Dickens.  There  were  the  ruins  of  Rochester 
Castle,  "the  lonely  field  near  Fort  Pitt"  where  Mr.  Winkle 
and  Lieut.  Tappleton  met  for  the  duel  which  did  not  take 
place,  and  the  bridge  wThere  "  dismal  Jemmy  "  so  excited  Mr. 
Pickwick's  sympathies  in  the  early  morning.  We  saw  them 
all,  though  the  gentleman  who  pointed  them  out  knew  little 
or  nothing  of  Dickens. 

But  to  continue  my  subject : — We  went  to  see  and  hear 
the  boys  of  the  "  Medway  Union."  You  wTould  hardly  sup- 
pose that  that  means  a  work-house,  but  such  is  the  fact.  It 
is  a  large  establishment,  with  people  of  all  ages  in  it.  The 
children  are,  of  course,  of  the  lowest  grade,  many  of  them 
the  veriest  waifs  of  community,  but  they  have  excellent 
school  privileges,  and  the  head  master,  Mr.  James  A.  Price, 
fortunately  for  them,  not  only  loves  music,  but  understands 
it  and  knows  how  to  teach  it  as  very  few  professional  teachers 
do.     Indeed,  to  his  rare  skill  the  extraordinary  results  that 


l8o  THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   I<IFK. 

we  listened  to  are  due.  What  did  it  matter  how  they  ex- 
pressed or  noted  what  they  sang?  It  was,  in  point  of  fact, 
a  tonic-sol-fa  choir,  but  I  did  not  think  about  that  at  all  at 
first.  It  was  the  singing  that  struck  me  and  delighted  me 
as  no  boys'  singing  up  to  that  time  had  ever  done.  There 
were  about  forty  of  the  little  fellows  in  the  choir,  carrying 
three  well-balanced  parts — the  sopranos  beautifully  sweet 
and  clear,  and  the  altos  of  admirable  quality — not  a  harsh 
voice  in  the  whole  number,  nor  one  chest-tone  forced  be- 
yond its  proper  place.  They  sang  without  accompaniment, 
but  there  was  no  flatting  nor  singing  out  of  tune  in  any  way. 

They  sang  one  or  two  songs  of  German  origin,  if  I  re- 
member rightly,  at  first,  and  then  four  or  five  of  mine.  It 
is  the  same  everywhere  here.  Wherever  the  tonic-sol-faists 
have  worked,  American  music  has  found  a  use  and  a  home. 
Mine  would  naturally  be  sung  where  I  went,  as  a  compli- 
mentary attention^ 

After  the  singing  Mr.  Price  had  a  few  of  the  boys  play 
violins  and  violas  while  he  played  the  'cello,  and  after  that  a 
large  drum  and  fife  corps,  also  composed  of  the  choir  boys, 
performed  admirably;  only,  as  it  was  damp  weather,  the 
performance  was  in  a  room  and  the  din  almost  deafening.  I 
must  not  omit  to  mention  a  very  prominent  member  of  this 
happy  company — for  happy  it  is,  as  the  beaming  faces  of  the 
little  fellows  abundantly  testify.  This  individual  is  "  Don," 
a  monstrous  dog  of  the  St.  Bernard  persuasion.  Wherever 
the  boys  are,  there  is  Don.  Whenever  they  assemble  for 
singing  he  brings  up  the  rear  and  stretches  his  huge  bulk  in 
the  aisle  as  near  to  them  as  he  can  get.  During  the  stun- 
ning fife  and  drum  performance,  which  would  have  set  wild 
any  other  dog  I  ever  knew,  Don  walked  around  among  the 
instruments  and  players,  placidly  waving  his  great  plume  of 
a  tail,  the  picture  of  contentment  and  benevolence.  And 
after  the  music,  out  in  the  paved  court  where  some  little 


THK   STORY   OF  A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  l8l 

boys  were  at  play,  I  shall  never  forget  the  affection  mani- 
fested on  both  sides — how  the  little  chaps  clung  to  the  great 
fellow,  and  how  he  seemed  to  feel  the  care  of  the  entire  group. 

It  will  be  a  great  pleasure  always  to  call  to  mind  the 
friends  and  events  of  that  day  :  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Price,  and  her 
mother  (who  has  been  the  matron  of  the  institution  for  many 
years),  and  the  assistant  teachers,  and  their  noble  work. 
The  difference  for  good  that  in  all  probability  they  will  have 
caused  in  the  lives  of  those  children  can  not  be  estimated  by 
any  earthly  standard. 

I  now  come  to  another  most  interesting  event  connected 
with  my  English  visit.  It  was  a  journey  to  Burslem,  in  Staf- 
fordshire, by  the  kind  arrangement  of  Mr.  Curwen,  and,  as 
his  guest,  to  hear  one  of  the  most  celebrated  choirs  in  the 
kingdom.  Staffordshire  is  the  great  pottery  county  of  Eng- 
land. It  was  in  Burslem  that  Wedgewood  lived  and  died. 
Wedgewood  Hall,  a  beautiful  building,  is  there  erected  to  his 
memory,  in  which  are  wonders  of  the  art  which  has  made 
his  name  celebrated  the  world  over.  The  choir  is  composed 
almost  entirely  of  men,  women  and  children  who  work  in 
the  potteries  or  are  connected  with  that  industry.  On  the 
way  Mr.  Curwen  said :  "I  do  not  know  whether  there  is 
something  especially  favorable  to  singing  in  their  occupa- 
tion, but  it  is  certain  that  they  have  exceptionally  good 
voices." 

We  were  met  at  the  station  by  Mr.  Thomas  Hulme,  a 
prominent  citizen  and  former  mayor  of  the  city,  who  took 
us  to  his  fine  residence  on  a  commanding  eminence  in  the 
suburbs.  From  there  we  went  at  seven  to  the  Town  Hall, 
where  the  performance  was  to  take  place.  The  hall  which 
would  hold  a  thousand  or  more  people  was  packed  on  our 
arrival.  On  either  side  and  in  front  of  a  good-sized  organ 
were  raised  seats  for  the  choir,  already  there,  one  hundred 
and  seventy  strong.     The  fact  that  this  choir  had  sung  my 


Is-  THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE. 

music  a  good  deal  in  former  years,  and  that  the  papers  had 
announced  our  coming — Mr.  Curwen's  and  mine — in  a  very- 
kind  and  appreciative  way,  caused  a  hearty  greeting  on  the 
part  of  both  choir  and  audience  as  we  entered. 

I  ought  to  say  that  this  was  a  kind  of  public  rehearsal  of 
music  to  be  performed  at  a  competition  of  choral  societies 
(they  call  them  "choirs  "  in  England)  to  take  place  at  Liver- 
pool the  following  week.  The  great  competition  piece  was 
a  double  chorus  by  Bach,  called  "  Be  not  afraid  " — twenty- 
seven  pages  long  in  the  Novello  edition,  and  taking  exactly 
ten  minutes  in  performance.  When  I  say  that  it  is  in  eight 
parts,  filled  with  the  peculiar  intricacies  and  difficulties  of 
this  great  composer's  music,  and  that  it  was  sung  magnifi- 
cently without  notes  and  without  accompaniment,  I  think  my 
readers  will  agree  with  me  that  it  was  a  remarkable  perform- 
ance, well  worth  a  long  journey  to  hear.  Mr.  Curwen's  re- 
mark about  the  voices  was  fully  justified.  They  wTere  not 
only  beautiful  in  quality  but  of  great  power.  Indeed,  when 
the  chorus  began,  the  burst  was  so  grand  that  I  could  hardly 
realize  that  only  one-half  the  choir  were  singing. 

There  were  other  highly  interesting  performances  during 
the  evening,  among  which  was  a  part-song  by  Pinsuti,  most 
delicately  sung ;  but  I  will  not  further  particularize ;  yes,  I 
must  mention  a  test  that  Mr.  Curwen,  by  request,  gave  to 
show  the  musical  knowledge  of  the  younger  members  of  the 
choir.  Two  blackboards  were  brought  on  to  the  platform 
and  two  children  called  up  to  write  what  Mr.  Docksey,  the 
conductor,  sang,  he  using  the  syllable  la.  The  music  in  two 
parts  had  been  prepared  by  Mr.  Curwen  before  entering  the 
hall,  and  was,  of  course,  entirely  unknown  to  the  choir.  The 
work  was  promptly  and  correctly  done  in  the  tonic-sol-fa 
notation,  and  then  six  other  children — three  on  a  part — were 
called  up  to  sing  what  had  been  written,  which  was  easily 
and  well  done,  much  to  the  delight  of  the  audience.    .  I  pre- 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL    LIFE.  [83 

sume  they  could  have  used  the  staff  notation,  but  this  was 
shorter. 

I  shall  not  soon  forget  the  Burslem  choir  and  its  able 
conductor,  and  the  pleasure  that  evening  gave  me. 

Who  has  not  read  of  that  bold  outlaw,  Robin  Hood,  and 
his  adventures  in  Epping  Forest,  then  far  away  from  Lon- 
don, but  now  near  by?  The  forest  did  not  go  to  London, 
but  London  came  to  the  forest,  the  eight  or  nine  miles  out 
to  "  Forest  Gate,"  where  Mr.  Curwen  lives,  being  now  a 
continuous  city,  a  most  pleasant  and  safe  ride,  the  railway 
going  sometimes  over  the  streets  and  houses  and  other  rail- 
ways, sometimes  under  them,  but  never  on  their  level.  No 
"  crossings,"  with  flagmen  whose  best  efforts  can  not  prevent 
accidents,  and  no  delays — everything  like  clock-work ;  a 
consummation  devoutly  to  be  wished  for  on  our  side  of  the 
water. 

But  I  started  to  tell  about  a  party — a  lawn  party  on  the 
borders  of  Epping  Forest.  An  English  lawn  is  something 
to  see — the  thick,  soft  grass,  so  level  and  green,  is  like  cut 
velvet,  and  for  bowls,  ten-pins,  croquet,  and  other  outdoor 
games  as  good  as  a  floor.  The  lawn  at  Mr.  Curwen 's  place 
is  of  this  kind,  and  is  rendered  more  picturesque  by  being 
thickly  bordered  on  the  sides  by  fine  trees,  some  old  enough, 
perhaps,  to  have  sheltered  the  bold  outlaw  and  his  merry 
men.  Here  the  students  of  the  sol-fa  college,  with  the 
teachers  and  their  ladies,  assembled  one  lovely  afternoon 
near  the  close  of  their  term. 

Right  here  let  me  say  that  if  any  one  has  an  impression 
that  these  tonic-sol-fa  people  and  their  accomplished  teach- 
ers do  not  know  the  staff  notation,  they  are  wonderfully 
mistaken.  I  only  wish  our  people  knew  it  as  well.  Why, 
the  Curwen  house  prints  everything  it  issues  in  the  staff 
notation  as  well  as  in  tonic-sol-fa.  It  is  a  curious  fact  that 
at  first  the  other  houses,  Novello's,  for  instance,  printed  no 

Mm 


184  THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE. 

tonic-sol-fa  and  the  Curwens  printed  no  staff.  Now  the 
Curwens  print  staff  and  Novello  a  great  deal  of  tonic-sol-fa 
music.  I  am  quite  sure  I  am  right  in  saying  that  all  sol-fa- 
ists  look  forward  to  a  knowledge  of  the  staff  notation  as  their 
crowning  acquirement. 

Somehow  or  other  the  impression  has  been  extensively 
created  in  America  that  "  Sol-fa"  was  to  sweep  all  other  no- 
tations out  of  existence.  I  don't  know  who  did  it — Mr. 
Seward  says  he  didn't ;  but  I  do  know  that  that  is  not  the 
way  the  matter  is  regarded  in  England,  and  it  is  much  to  be 
regretted  that  there  should  be  any  misunderstanding  about 
it,  for  the  usefulness  of  the  work  as  done  there  can  not  be 
denied,  and  the  teaching  that  has  grown  with  it  that  may  be 
applied  to  the  staff  notation  is  of  a  very  superior  order. 

The  afternoon  was  delightful;  groups  playing  games, 
others  chatting,  two  long  tables  decked  with  flowers,  near 
the  trees,  for  supper,  or,  I  should  say,  tea.  They  do  nothing 
there  without  a  cup  of  tea.  At  almost  any  kind  of  meeting 
having  at  all  the  social  element  in  it  the  first  thing  is  a  cup 
of  tea — a  discussion,  a  speech  meeting,  a  singing  meeting. 
They  don't  seem  to  get  on  with  any  of  them  without  first 
getting  inspiration  from  the  cup  which  "cheers,"  etc.  I  do 
not  wonder,  though,  that  it  is  so  popular  a  beverage  there. 
It  is  quite  another  thing  from  the  article  we  know  as  tea. 
"  Tea  meetings  "  would  never  thrive  on  the  kind  we  gener- 
ally get  on  our  side  of  the  water. 

After  tea  a  photographer  appeared  on  the  scene  and 
placed  the  assembled  company  in  a  group,  with  the  fine  old 
"ivy-mantled"  house  for  a  background.  "Come,  doctor," 
they  called.  I  was  talking  with  some  one  a  little  way  off. 
"  You  don't  want  me,"  I  answered  ;  "I'm  not  in  the  charmed 
circle."  "  But  your  music  is,  and  we  must  have  you."  So 
there  I  am,  in  the  excellent  picture  then  taken. 

I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  here  Mr.  Spedding  Curwen, 


.    the:  story  of  a  musical  ufk.  185 

the  other  member  of  the  firm  of  J.  Curwen  &  Sons,  and 
its  business  manager,  whose  fine  residence  is  not  far  away. 
Nothing  could  be  more  complete  than  the  combination  of 
these  two  men  for  the  success  of  their  important  business 
enterprises ;  nor  more  delightful  than  the  intercourse  of  their 
two  families  for  the  enjoyment  of  their  home  life. 

After  the  picture,  singing.  There  were  too  few  lady 
students  to  have  a  mixed  choir,  but  the  men's  choir,  under 
the  leadership  of  Mr.  McNaught,  was  admirable.  Mr.  Proud- 
man's  voice  work  showed  its  rare  excellence,  especially  in 
the  upper  tenors.  Their  tones  were  of  beautiful  quality, 
easily  produced  and  true  to  pitch.  Then  Mr.  Kestin,  the 
teacher  of  elocution,  gave  some  recitations.  I  wish  some  of 
our  howling  ranters  could  have  heard  him.  The  quiet  sin- 
cerity with  which  he  made  every  character  his  own,  made 
me  think  of  the  answer  a  country  friend  once  gave  when 
asked  how  he  liked  Jefferson's  acting  in  "  Rip  Van  Winkle." 
"  Why,  I  didn't  see  any  acting.  I  saw  a  shif'less  Dutchman 
that  got  druv  off  into  the  mountains,  but  he  was  such  a  good- 
natur'd  feller  I  liked  him  fust  rate."  So  Mr.  Kestin  was  for 
the  time  whatever  he  assumed  to  be,  carrying  us  all  with  him, 
in  the  same  way.  The  drawing-room  being  on  a  level  with 
the  lawn,  with  windows  opening  out  upon  it,  all  could  enjoy 
the  solos — instrumental  and  vocal — with  which  the  afternoon 
closed. 

In  connection  with  the  romantic  interest  I  felt  in  Epping 
Forest,  a  deep  impression  was  made  upon  my  mind  about 
this  time  by  a  visit  to  Rev.  John  Curwen 's  grave.  It  is 
nearer  what  was  the  forest  center,  in  a  spot  selected,  I  think 
his  son  said,  by  himself.  A  fine  shaft  bears  an  appropriate 
inscription,  but  his  great  monument  is  the  reverence  in 
which  his  memory  is  held  by  hundreds  of  thousands  who 
have  been  the  better  for  his  modest  and  unselfish  work. 

My  kind  host  knowing  my  desire  to  hear  the  representa- 


1 86  THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   UFK. 

tive  music  of  England  as  far  as  possible,  suggested,  on  a  Sun- 
day soon  after,  that  we  go  to  the  Chapel  Royal,  St.  James 
Palace,  the  worshiping  place  of  royalty  and  nobility  when 
in  London .  Arriving  in  due  time  we  were  ushered  by  a 
solemn  functionary — I  forget  his  title — into  some  seats  that 
we  might  occupy.  It  is  a  small  chapel,  long  and  narrow,  but 
rich  and  elaborate  in  decorations,  particularly  the  part  devot- 
ed to  the  royal  family — but  I  won't  go  into  guide-book  talk. 
The  first  curious  thing  was  the  dress  of  the  choir  boys  before 
they  donned  their  white  surplices  (we  saw  them  about  the 
corridors  of  the  palace).  It  was  of  red  and  gold,  very  elab- 
orate and  costly,  more  military  than  religious-looking,  but  a 
distinguishing  uniform  that  they  must  wear  all  the  time. 
But  the  little  fellows  can  sing !  Nothing  but  the  severest  of 
the  English  ecclesiastical  music  allowed — extremely  difficult 
in  all  respects,  and  I  should  say  only  made  tolerable  to  un- 
trained ears  by  the  beauty  of  the  voices  and  the  ease  with 
which  all  difficulties  were  overcome.  The  alto  was  sung 
by  men.  We  were  invited  to  dinner  by  Mr.  J.  A.  Birch,  an 
acquaintance  of  Mr.  Curwen,  whose  speaking  voice  indicates 
a  fine,  resonant  base,  but  who  is  one  of  the  altos,  not  only  of 
this  choir  but  of  that  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  the  services 
being  at  different  hours.  I  need  not  say  that  these  positions 
mean  exceptional  gifts  and  attainments  on  the  part  of  those 
who  hold  them.  The  men  of  this  particular  choir  are  called 
"gentlemen  of  the  chapel  royal."  Mr.  Birch  is  a  highly 
successful  conductor  and  teacher  in  London,  and  gratified 
me  much  by  his  hearty  greeting.  In  the  course  of  conver- 
sation he  said :  "  I  have  given  your  cantatas  a  great  deal  for 
many  years ;  indeed,  one  of  them  has  been  more  remunerative 
than  any  other  work  of  the  kind  that  I  have  ever  had  to  do 
with — I  mean  'The  Haymakers.'  I  have  given  it  seventeen 
times." 

On  coming  out  of  service  we  were  just  in  time  to  see  the 


THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE.  1 87 

change  of  the  Queen's  guard  in  the  court-yard  of  the  palace, 
and  to  hear  two  numbers  from  one  of  the  two  best  bands  in 
the  kingdom.  A  Thomas  orchestra  performance  was  the 
only  thing  I  could  liken  it  to  for  finish  and  elegance. 


iSS  THE   STORY    OF   A    MUSICAL    LIFE. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

THE  PARISH  CHURCH — TRADITIONAL  CHANTING THE  "SWAN- 
LEY  BOYS  " — THE  HALL  OF  PARLIAMENT — A  RECEPTION  ON 
MR.  CURWEN'S  LAWN — FORTY  CONDUCTORS — THE  BRITISH 
MUSEUM — A  MUSICAL  CATALOGUE — ONE  OF  THE  LONDON 
"  CHOIRS  " — THE  SOUTH  LONDON  CHORAL  INSTITUTE — DR. 
ALLON'S  CHURCH  AT  ISLINGTON — MY  SIXTY-SIXTH  BIRTH- 
DAY— THE  CRYSTAL  PALACE  AND  "AUTUMN  WINDS" — THE 
CONCERT   ON   THE    "  CITY   OF   ROME." 

GOING  to  "  church  "  in  England  means  but  one  thing — 
the  Church  of  England.  Going  to  other  religious 
gatherings  is  called  going  to  "  chapel,"  or  something  of  that 
kind.  One  Sunday  morning  my  kind  host  said,  "  Let  us  go 
to  the  parish  church  to-day ;  the  music  will  interest  you." 
It  was  a  walk  of  perhaps  a  mile  and  a  half  from  Forest  Gate, 
but  when  we  got  there  it  was  indeed  the  parish  church  of 
old  England  as  immortalized  in  descriptions  innumerable : 
low,  gothic,  massive,  ivy-clad,  the  old,  gray  tower  rising 
like  the  chief  monument  of  the  church-yard  in  which  it  is 
placed.  Groups  of  grown  people  and  children,  wending 
their  way  among  the  grave-stones,  realized  in  every  particu- 
lar the  picture  so  familiar  to  us  all  of  this  peculiarly  English 
scene. 

We  entered  at  a  side  door,  stepping  upon  the  uneven 
stone  floor  that  had  been  worn  by  the  footsteps  of  many 
generations.  The  surpliced  organist,  in  full  sight,  had  just 
commenced  his  voluntary.  Soon  the  ministers  and  choir 
of  surpliced  men  and  boys  filed  in,  and  service  commenced. 
I  will  not  go  into  particulars,  but  would  simply  speak  of  the 


THK   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  1 89 

excellent  choir-singing  there,  as  I  have  had  occasion  to  do 
of  all  the  surpliced  choirs  I  heard  while  in  England,  and  of 
the  fine  tunes  and  hearty  singing  of  the  congregation,  in  all 
the  hymns.  I  did  not  hear  one  by  choir  alone,  and  not  an 
interlude  during  the  entire  time. 

I  think  my  readers  will  bear  witness  that  I  have  not 
sought  the  adverse  side  in  my  descriptions,  but  I  must  say 
that  chanting  there,  judged  by  every  consideration  excepting 
tradition,  is  poor — more  than  that,  it  is  to  me  irreverent.  I 
will  not  judge  others,  but  how  any  one  who  thinks  the 
words  of  the  Bible  should  be  read  or  intoned  deliberately, 
can  be  devotionally  impressed  by  the  unseemly  haste  and 
inevitable  confusion  that  this  mode  of  chanting  compels,  I 
do  not  understand.  And  it  is  passing  strange,  that  while 
the  "  chapels,"  and  dissenters  generally,  who  have  broken 
off  from  the  Church  of  England,  repudiate  mostly  the  modes 
of  that  church,  they  stick  to  this  race-horse  chanting — that 
is,  so  far  as  I  have  heard  them.  The  power  of  tradition  is 
astonishing.  It  still  holds  sway  over  the  Episcopal  churches 
of  our  country,  but  we  have  reason  to  be  thankful  that  Dr. 
Lowell  Mason,  a  half  a  century  ago,  inaugurated  the  better 
mode  that  prevails  in  our  other  churches ;  that  is,  the  chants 
so  arranged  that  the  words  are  uttered  about  as  fast  as  the 
reverent  reader  reads. 

On  the  Monday  following  we  went  to  the  Swanley  Or- 
phan's Home,  one  of  those  noble  institutions  for  the  care  and 
training  of  children  of  which  there  are  several  about  Eon- 
don.  This  place  is  about  twenty  miles  out,  if  I  remember 
rightly,  delightfully  situated  on  a  breezy  hill,  and  is  re- 
markable for  its  boy  choir,  known  as  the  "  Swanley  Boys." 
I  wish  you  could  see  the  photograph  before  me — two  hun- 
dred or  more  of  these  little  fellows — taken  in  the  Institution 
(they  teach  the  boys  there  all  sorts  of  useful  occupations  ; 
a  ruddier,  happier  set  of  little  faces  it  would  be  hard  to  find. 


190  THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL    LIFE. 

I  say  "  remarkable  for  its  boy  choir."  I  ought  to  say  it  is 
remarkable  for  its  excellence  in  everything  that  relates  to 
the  welfare  of  the  boys,  but  I  will  confine  myself  to  the  one 
thing  that  we  went  especially  to  observe. 

The  whole  number  sang  first  in  two  parts — -just  soprano 
and  alto — but  such  music  !  I  am  sorry  I  did  not  take  a  note 
of  what  was  done  first — I  think  something  by  Mendelssohn, 
but  what  was  most  prominent  was  the  Hallelujah  chorus ! 
As  music,  without  tenor  and  base,  it  was  of  course  lacking, 
but  as  a  performance  showing  the  musical  attainments  of  the 
boys,  and  especially  the  masterly  training  of  their  voices,  it 
was  a  great  success.  Every  time  the  sopranos  approached 
the  high  places  that  every  conductor  so  much  dreads,  I 
thought  "  now  they  can  not  keep  up  that  perfect  pitch  and 
sweetness,"  but  they  did,  and  when  the  sopranos  gave  the 
high  A  at  "And  he  shall  reign,"  although  on  the  thin  vowel 
e,  I  know  of  no  better  word  than  "  angelic  "  to  express  the 
impression  made  upon  the  minds  of  the  visitors  present. 

I  said  to  Mr.  W.  H.  Richardson,  their  teacher  and  con- 
ductor: "Can  these  be  ordinary  boy  voices?  If  so,  I  do 
not  quite  see  how  you  get  these  results."  "  In  the  first 
place,"  he  replied,  "  we  take  all  the  care  of  their  voices  that 
we  can.  The  little  fellows  are  not  allowed  to  shout  or  talk 
boisterously  at  their  play  or  at  any  time,  and  we  are  con- 
stantly on  the  watch  to  keep  their  tones  soft  and  sweet,  and 
in  the  proper  registers."  "  I  can  not  think  you  have  much 
trouble  in  that  way  now,"  I  continued.  "  We  should  have 
trouble  enough  if  we  were  to  relax  our  watchfulness  for  even 
a  few  days,  I  assure  you,"  he  replied.  I  mention  this  con- 
versation to  show  that  what  seemed  so  easy — almost  spon- 
taneous, was  really  the  result  of  hard  wTork  and  constant 
watchfulness. 

After  this  performance  came  the  "  Swanley  Boys  "  proper, 
that  is,  the  large  chorus  was  sent  away  all  but  about  forty 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL    LIFE.  *9J 

boys.  These  form  the  famous  choir.  They  go  about  a  good 
deal  giving  concerts  which  result  in  considerable  pecuniary 
aid  to  the  Institution.  And  now  came  beautiful  part-songs 
in  three  parts,  and  then  some  blackboard  "  tests."  Mr.  Cur- 
wen  gave  some  excellent  examinations  in  tonic-sol-fa,  and  I 
followed  with  a  moderately  difficult  three-part  exercise  on 
staffs.  After  they  had  sung  it  I  only  wished  it  had  been 
three  times  as  difficult — they  made  no  more  of  it  than  if  it 
had  been  the  scale.  It  was  another  proof  that  tonic-sol-fa 
and  staff  notations  go  hand  in  hand  in  England,  whatever 
may  be  thought  about  the  matter  in  America. 

After  much  kind  attention  from  Mr.  Gregory,  the  gov- 
ernor of  the  Institution,  Mr.  Richardson  accompanied  us  to 
the  station,  where  we  bade  him  a  warm  farewell,  and  turned 
our  faces  toward  the  great  city. 

This  is  not  the  proper  place  to  describe  the  great  sights 
of  London,  but  I  will  say  that  after  much  difficulty  I  got 
"  into  Parliament  " — one  day  too  late  to  hear  Mr.  Gladstone, 
but  other  speakers  were  well  worth  hearing.  I  think  all 
strangers  wonder  first  why  the  hall  is  so  small,  and  second, 
why  there  is  so  little  room  for  visitors.  My  good  friend  en- 
lightened me  on  these  points.  He  said:  "You  observed  first 
that  the  speakers  used  the  conversational  tone.  [This  was 
especially  observable.]  That  is  an  important  factor  in 
English  oratory,  and  they  will  not  have  a  room  that  requires 
shouting.  Second,  when  exciting  questions  are  up,  they  will 
not  have  an  audience  whose  size  would  be  a  moral  power  on 
one  side  or  the  other,  so  they  planned  to  have  but  few  visitors 
at  a  time." 

I  can  only  hope  to  be  excused  for  so  much  of  the  personal 
pronoun — first  person,  singular  number — as  will  appear  in 
what  remains  to  be  related  of  my  English  visit,  on  the  ground 
that  some  of  the  facts,  particularly  those  that  have  a  bearing 
upon  an  international  copyright  law,  will  be  of  general  inter- 


I92  THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE. 

est.  For  the  rest,  I  hope  my  readers  will  not  be  sorry  to 
learn  more  particularly  of  the  attention  and  kindness  shown 
me  across  the  water. 

The  day  after  my  arrival  in  London  a  public  reception 
was  suggested,  but  I  preferred  a  less  formal  way  of  meeting 
the  musical  friends,  and  so  expressed  myself  to  Mr.  Curwen, 
who  had  the  matter  in  charge.  This  resulted  in  an  invita- 
tion, which  included  the  conductors  in  and  about  London, 
who  desired  to  meet  me,  to  a  lawn  or  garden  party  at  Mr. 
Curwen's  residence.  Some  were  away  for  their  vacation, 
but  all  who  were  accessible  came,  about  forty  in  number. 

I  expected  to  be  well  received  in  England,  but  the  reality 
far  exceeded  my  expectations.  All  to  whom  I  was  intro- 
duced not  only  greeted  me  as  an  old  friend,  but  expressed 
themselves  in  regard  to  my  works,  and  their  usefulness,  in 
a  way  that  was  as  unexpected  as  it  was  gratifying.  Particu- 
larly was  this  the  case  on  this  occasion.  All  these  gentle- 
men had  taught  and  conducted  my  music,  more  or  less,  from 
the  beginning  of  their  work — indeed,  as  one  said,  some  of 
them  "had  been  brought  up  on  it"  before  they  became 
teachers  and  conductors.  I  did  not  forget,  however,  while 
these  gentlemen  were  speaking  so  kindly  of  what  I  had  done, 
and  of  what  was  still  useful  to  them  in  their  more  elementary 
work,  that  many  of  their  choral  societies  had  outgrown  my 
music  and  were  occupied  with  the  higher  grades.  An  in- 
stance of  this  I  will  speak  of  later. 

Short  interviews  with  the  friends  who  had  so  honored 
me  was  the  order  of  the  afternoon.  From  Mr.  John  Evans, 
superintendent  of  music  in  the  public  schools  of  London, 
and  Mr.  J.  Westwood  Tosh,  his  able  assistant,  I  received 
much  interesting  and  valuable  information  concerning  their 
work ;  from  Mr.  Robert  Griffiths,  secretary  of  the  tonic-sol- 
fa  college,  who  remembered  Dr.  Mason's  visit  thirty-six  years 
ago,  many  items  of  interest  concerning  the  educational  move- 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  I93 

ment  that  he  had  so  much  to  do  with,  and  from  the  Venables 
brothers  something  of  their  work;  but  I  leave  that  to  an 
account  of  a  visit  to  their  Institute,  which  took  place  a  few 
days  later. 

As  the  twilight  drew  on  we  adjourned  to  the  drawing- 
room  (whose  windows  open  like  doors  upon  the  lawn)  and 
had  some  music.  The  first  number  was  my  first  song, 
"  Hazel  Dell,"  sung  by  Mr.  Sinclair  Dunn,  a  graduate  and 
medalist  of  the  Royal  Academy,  and  a  fine  tenor,  who  sang 
it  in  a  way  that  made  me  think  of  Nilsson's  singing  of  "Way 
Down  upon  the  Suwanee  River."  Other  music,  vocal  and 
instrumental,  followed.  The  hearty  applause  which  followed 
a  song  by  the  writer  was,  he  felt,  simply  a  compliment  to  the 
way  an  old  man  had  preserved  his  voice.  My  pleasure  was 
greatly  increased  on  this  occasion  by  the  presence  of  one  of 
my  daughters  who  had  been  on  the  continent  some  months 
with  the  family  of  a  beloved  nephew.  She  also  participated 
in  the  birthday  surprise  spoken  of  further  on. 

One  day  about  this  time  Mr.  Curwen  said :  "  Come ;  I 
want  to  show  you  a  list  of  your  compositions  in  the  British 
Museum."  We  went;  and  through  Mr.  C.'s  application  (he  is 
a  member  there),  and  by  my  signing  a  declaration  that  I  was 
more  than  twenty-one  years  of  age,  I  became  a  member  for 
one  day,  with  all  the  rights  and  privileges  of  the  grandest 
reading-room  in  the  world. 

We  went  first  to  a  row  of  large  books,  which  constitute 
the  musical  catalogue  of  the  place.  Taking  out  one  with 
"  R  "  on  the  back  he  turned  to  my  name.  But  I  should  first 
say  that  the  titles  of  the  works  (songs  or  larger  works)  on 
these  pages  are  mostly  written,  and  are  pasted  in  with  spaces 
between,  that,  as  they  come,  they  may  be  put  in  alphabetical 
order.  There  are,  I  should  say,  from  four  to  six  entries  on 
a  page.  First,  the  full  name  of  the  author,  then  the  entire 
title  of  the  work,  and  by  whom  published.     What  was  my 


194  TH"E   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

astonishment,  on  counting,  as  we  turned  the  leaves,  to  find 
twenty-three  pages  and  a  part  of  the  twenty-fourth  occupied 
entirely  with  my  compositions.  I  ought,  perhaps,  first  to 
have  explained  that  every  publisher  in  the  kingdom  is  ex- 
pected to  send  a  copy  of  everything  he  publishes  to  the 
British  Museum,  where  it  is  catalogued  and  kept  for  refer- 
ence. 

"  Now,"  said  Mr.  Curwen,  "  to  show  you  how  orderly  and 
convenient  their  methods  are  here,  decide  what  you  would 
like  to  see  of  these  works,  and  I  will  have  it  brought."  I 
had  been  much  interested  to  observe  that  "Just  Before  the 
Battle"  was  entered  twelve  times.  It  had  been  published 
by  six  different  publishers,  and  there  were  six  instrumental 
arrangements  of  it,  so  I  chose  an  instrumental  duet  on  that 
melody.  ("Vacant  Chair"  had  been  entered  eight  times; 
"  Tramp,"  seven,  and  others  two,  three,  and  four  times.) 
Mr.  C.  then  filled  out  a  printed  form,  putting  on  it  the  num- 
bers of  two  seats  by  a  table,  on  which  he  left  his  gloves  to 
show  that  the  seats  were  taken.  "Now,"  he  said,  as  he 
handed  the  order  to  an  attendant,  "we  will  go  and  get  lunch, 
and  when  we  come  back  we  shall  find  the  book,  with  the 
music  you  want,  there." 

Let  my  reader  see  this  picture : — a  vast  rotunda — the 
largest  reading-room  in  the  world,  with  hundreds  of  people 
sitting  at  tables,  reading,  studying,  or  copying,  and  scores 
of  attendants  in  the  alcoves  or  galleries  getting  books  or 
returning  them,  and  more  than  a  million  different  works  to 
be  kept  in  their  places  and  selected  from,  and  he  will  have 
some  idea  of  the  perfection  of  the  machinery  necessary  to 
keep  everything  running  smoothly  in  the  reading-room  of 
the  British  Museum. 

We  had  a  fine  lunch  in  the  grand  buffet  of  the  building, 
and  when  we  returned  there  was  the  book.  It  contained  the 
duet— a  good  arrangement,  by  Brinley  Richards  (if  I  remem- 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  1 95 

ber  rightly) — and  several  others  of  my  compositions,  enough 
to  fill  it.  Mr.  Curwen  fully  believes  in  the  justice  of  an 
international  copyright  law,  and  said,  before  I  left,  "You 
should  publish  a  letter  in  some  prominent  paper  when  you 
return  to  America,  stating  these  facts,  for  you  are  undoubt- 
edly the  greatest  sufferer  among  the  musicians  there  for  the 
want  of  this  law." 

Mr.  Curwen  said  I  ought  to  hear  one  of  the  London 
choirs  (choral  societies).  To  say  that,  meant,  with  my  kind 
host,  that  it  should  be  done,  if  within  the  bounds  of  possi- 
bility. I  think  it  was  planned  on  the  afternoon  of  the  con- 
ductors' gathering,  mentioned  previously,  with  the  brothers 
Venables.  At  any  rate,  a  short  time  afterward  I  was  told 
that,  although  not  yet  time  for  the  gathering  of  the  musical 
forces  for  the  autumn,  one  of  the  three  choirs  that  competed 
at  the  Crystal  Palace  the  previous  June,  under  the  conduct- 
orship  of  Mr.  Leonard  C.  Venables,  would  assemble  to  meet 
me  at  the  South  London  Choral  Institute,  an  institution 
owned  and  managed  by  the  brothers. 

At  the  time  appointed  we  went.  Although  only  going 
from  one  part  of  London  to  another,  we  had  to  take  two 
trains  to  get  there — about  fifteen  miles,  I  should  judge. 
While  the  choir  were  gathering  we  were  shown  by  Mr. 
George  Venables  the  excellent  appointments  and  many 
conveniences  of  the  building,  which  the  brothers  with  in- 
domitable energy  and  perseverance  have  partially  built  and 
entirely  arranged  for  their  musical  purposes.  When  we 
returned  to  the  large  hall  the  choir,  numbering  perhaps  a 
hundred  and  fifty,  were  singing  a  lovely  part-song.  Then 
came  one  of  Mendelssohn's  Psalms — the  one  in  which  the 
solo  part  is  taken  by  an  alto  voice.  Although  out  of  practice, 
as  the  conductor  said,  the  performance  was  admirable.  The 
young  lady's  voice  was  like  Gary's,  and  her  method  charm- 
ing, and  the  choruses  were  sung  as  only  those  sing  who 


T06  THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

thoroughly  comprehend  what  they  are  doing.  The  voices 
here,  as  in  all  the  tonic-sol-fa  choirs  that  I  heard  in 
England,  were  excellently  taught — true  and  of  beautiful 
quality. 

At  the  conclusion  of  this  Psalm,  Mr.  Venables  spoke  at 
length  and  most  kindly  of  the  individual  whom  they  had 
gathered  to  meet ;  of  the  use  his  music  had  been  to  them ; 
of  their  familiarity  with  it  in  their  earlier  work,  etc.  This 
gave  me  my  key-note.  Some  people  can  talk  against  time 
— can  say  something  interesting  when  they  have  nothing 
particular  to  say.  I  envy  them — it  is  a  great  gift — but  I 
can't  do  it.  (This  is  no  reflection  upon  Mr.  Venables,  who 
had  something  to  say,  and  said  it  well.)  I  could,  however, 
seize  upon  the  idea  that  this  fine  choir  had  been  in  musical 
conditions  in  which  my  music  was  just  what  they  needed 
and  liked,  and  so  said  that  I  could  only  account  for  the  re- 
ception they  had  given  me  on  the  ground  that  there  are 
always  pleasant  memories  connected  with  what  we  have 
enjoyed  in  earlier  states,  whether  in  social  or  musical  life. 
When  I  alluded  to  their  having  outgrown  my  music,  cries 
of  "No!  no!  no!"  came  from  all  parts  of  the  room.  Of 
course  that  was  being  polite  to  a  stranger,  but  I  allude  to  it 
to  speak  of  two  things  that  interested  me  much  in  English 
audiences.  One  is  that  when  their  agreement  with,  or  ap- 
proval of,  the  speaker  is  not  up  to  the  applause  point,  they 
cry  "  Hear !  hear !  "  and  the  other  is  that  when  the  disagree- 
ment is  of  a  friendly  kind,  or  not  up  to  the  hissing  point  in 
an  unfriendly  way,  they  cry  "  No  !  no  !  "  There  is  some- 
thing more  supporting  and  encouraging  in  these  approving 
utterances  than  even  in  applause,  it  seems  to  me,  probably 
because  the  sound  of  the  human  voice  has  in  it  more  sym- 
pathy than  that  of  hands  or  canes.  I  only  regret  that  I  did 
not  say  on  that  occasion  what  was  in  my  heart  regarding  the 
noble  enterprise  which  has  been  brought  to  so  successful  a 


THE    STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE.  197 

point  by  the  Messrs.  Venables ;  but  I  was  a  good  deal  em- 
barrassed, and  my  wits  did  not  stay  by  me  as  they  should 
have  done. 

Then  came  a  song  from  my  "  Pilgrim  Fathers  "  by  this 
lovely  alto  voice,  and  the  double- theme  chorus,  "  Blessed  is 
the  Nation  whose  God  is  the  Lord,"  by  the  whole  choir. 
Those  interested  will  find  the  latter  in  "  Chorus  Castle,"  but 
better  in  Mr.  McPhail's  "  Crown  of  Song,"  where  it  has  an 
accompaniment  written  at  Mr.  McPhail's  request. 

We  had  so  far  to  go  that  we  were  obliged  to  leave  before 
the  exercises  closed,  but  the  kindness  of  these  warm-hearted 
friends  again  manifested  itself  by  applause,  which  lasted  until 
we  were  out  of  sight  and  hearing. 

One  Sunday,  toward  the  close  of  my  stay,  Mr.  Curwen 
proposed  that  we  should  go  where  we  could  hear  what  he 
considered  the  best  congregational  singing  in  London — Dr. 
Allon's  "  church,"  I  was  going  to  say,  but  I  believe  they  call 
it  chapel — in  Islington.  We  again  had  to  take  two  trains  to 
get  there.  It  is  a  large,  fine  church,  as  we  should  call  it, 
with  organ  behind  the  pulpit  and  galleries  on  three  sides 
converging  toward  the  organ,  without  quite  coming  to  it. 
These  galleries  were  filled  with  people,  so  that  the  two  large 
choirs  which  occupied  the  ends  nearest  the  organ  could  not 
in  the  least  be  distinguished  from  the  rest  of  the  audience. 
Everybody  had  the  same  books,  upstairs  and  down,  and 
when  "Anthem  twenty-four"  was  given  out  the  burst  was 
so  general  and  so  full  that  no  one  could  have  told  that  a 
choir  of  eighty  voices  or  more  was  taking  part.  I  should 
not  have  known  there  was  a  choir  at  all,  either  by  sight 
or  sound,  if  Mr.  Curwen  had  not  apprised  me  of  the  fact. 
Chants,  hymns  (without  interludes),  and  a  still  more  difficult 
anthem  were  sung  heartily  and  all  well  but  the  chants,  which 
had  the  traditional  fault  before  spoken  of.  I  think  the  choir 
do  nothing  alone.  They  do  not  believe  in  "  performing  "  to 
the  people,  but  in  singing  with  them. 


1 98  THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

I  had  a  birthday  while  staying  at  Mr.  Curwen's — one  I 
shall  never  forget.  Early  on  that  lovely  August  morning 
the  strains  of  Mendelssohn's  "  Morning  Prayer"  came  up  to 
my  window  from  the  lawn  below.  On  looking  out,  what 
was  my  surprise  to  see  a  choir  of  thirty  or  more  boys  and 
men  under  the  leadership  of  one  of  the  conductors  whom  I 
had  previously  met,  Mr.  H.  A.  Donald.  After  this  opening 
piece,  there  followed  three  of  my  little  songs.  When  they 
commenced  the  last  one  I  said  to  myself,  "That's  rather 
pretty,"  but  did  not  immediately  recognize  it  as  mine.  It 
never  came  to  the  front  in  America,  and  I  had  almost  for- 
gotten it.      "  Down  where  the  harebells  grow  "  is  its  title. 

When  I  thanked  them  for  the  trouble  they  had  taken, 
and  the  honor  they  had  done  me,  Mr.  Donald  said  :  "  Oh,  we 
are  all  delighted  to  give  you  a  birthday  greeting — the  boys, 
especially,  have  been  in  great  excitement  for  a  week.  They 
sing  your  music  a  good  deal,  and  you  have  come  so  far."  I 
soon  saw  another  reason  for  the  boys'  enjoyment.  My  kind 
friends,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Curwen,  of  whose  delicacy  and  atten- 
tion I  can  not  speak  in  adequate  terms,  had  invited  the  boys, 
and  the  gentlemen  who  accompanied  them,  to  breakfast.  A 
caterer  appeared  as  soon  as  the  singing  was  over  and  set  a 
table  on  the  lawn  for  the  boys,  the  gentlemen  breakfasting 
with  us  in  the  house.  The  lovely  grace  which  the  boys  sang 
before  they  sat  down,  and  the  three  cheers  they  gave  when 
they  went  away,  will  always  ring  in  my  memory  when  I 
think  of  that  morning. 

On  visiting  the  Crystal  Palace,  of  whose  vastness  words 
can  hardly  convey  an  adequate  idea,  every  one  is  impressed 
with  the  magnitude  of  the  arrangements  for  chorus  perform- 
ances. The  great  organ  in  the  center  is  named  "  Handel," 
and  at  its  sides  and  in  front  are  seats  in  crescent  form  for 
five  thousand  singers,  with  room  in  the  center  for  an  Or- 
el ustra  of  five  or  six  hundred.     I   forget  whether  it  was 


THE   STORY   OF  A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  199 

Mr.  Proudman,  Mr.  McNaught,  or  Mr.  Venables  who,  when 
speaking  of  the  different  effects  they  had  produced  there, 
told  me  that  they  once  gave  my  "Autumn  Winds"  in  that 
place  with  forty  sopranos  singing  the  solo,  and  the  balance 
of  the  five  thousand  humming  the  accompaniment — the  vast 
audience  being  greatly  excited  over  the  result. 

The  only  remaining  thing  to  note  was  a  concert,  with 
"  readings,"  on  the  steamship  City  of  Rome  coming  home. 
It  was  for  the  benefit  of  some  seamen's  charitable  associa- 
tion, and  given  by  such  musical  people  and  elocutionists  as 
happened  to  be  on  board.  I  tried  to  keep  out  of  the  way 
and  let  the  younger  people  do  the  performing,  but  they 
found  me  out,  and  I  had  to  take  part.  When  my  turn  came 
I  sang  "The  Sea,"  as  appropriate  to  the  occasion.  The  ap- 
plause which  followed  brought  the  chairman  to  his  feet,  who, 
in  a  very  kind  and  complimentary  speech,  gave  a  list  of  my 
principal  songs,  beginning  "way  back."  When  he  came  to 
naming  and  speaking  of  the  war  songs,  one  by  one,  there 
was  a  manifest  commotion  in  the  thronged  cabin  and  gang- 
ways, and  when  he  wound  up  with  "Battle-Cry"  and 
"  Tramp,"  the  whole  company  gave  three  ringing  cheers. 
It  turned  out  that  there  were  quite  a  number  of  army  people 
among  the  crowd  of  returning  Americans.  After  the  great 
kindness  of  my  English  friends,  it  was  pleasant  to  find,  after 
all,  that  "a  prophet"  may  have  some  "  honor  in  his  own 
country." 


200  THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

HOME  AGAIN — THE  "  PILLAR  OF  FIRE  "  AND  OTHER  CANTATAS 
— THE  IDEA  OF  "  CANTATAS  FOR  THE  PEOPLE  " — MR.  AND 
MRS.  J.  S.  CURWEN'S  VISIT  TO  AMERICA  —  "  WAR-SONG  " 
CONCERTS — THE  LOYAL  LEGION — THE  USUAL  HISTORY  OF 
MUSICAL  SOCIETIES — HOW  "  THE  HAYMAKERS  "  HELPED 
OUT — FAMILY  MATTERS,  "ROOTS  AND  BRANCHES" — THE 
HYDE  PARK  YACHT  CLUB  AND  THE  SUMMER  CONGREGA- 
TION  ON   THE    LAKE. 

MY  first  work  on  my  return  was  to  carry  out  a  plan  for 
a  cantata  suggested  by  Mr.  Hall,  of  the  London  Sun- 
day-School Union — the  return  of  Israel  from  the  captivity 
in  Egypt.  Mr.  Butterworth  helped  in  the  words,  and  "  The 
Pillar  of  Fire  "  was  the  result,  though  they  call  it  "  Cloud 
and  Sunshine  "  in  England. 

I  made  the  acquaintance  of  Mr.  John  Stuart  Bogg,  a  poet 
and  author,  while  attending  a  New  Church  conference  in 
Lancashire,  and  on  my  return  he  sent  me  a  libretto  for  a 
Sunday-school  and  choir  cantata,  called  "  The  Building  of 
the  Temple";  then  followed  librettos  by  other  well-known 
English  librettists — "Bethlehem,"  by  Frederic  E.Weatherly; 
"  Florens,  the  Pilgrim,"  by  David  Gow ;  and  "  Jacob  and 
Esau,"  by  A.  J.  Foxwell.  These  I  have  set  to  music,  and 
they  are  published  in  London  in  connection  with  the  Cin- 
cinnati house. 

For  Christmas,  1886,  my  daughter,  Clara  Louise  Burn- 
ham,  and  I  wrote  "The  Waifs'  Christmas,"  and  for  Christ- 
mas, 1887,  "Judge  Santa  Clans."  In  1888  we  wrote  "Snow 
White  and  the  Seven  Dwarfs,"  a  cantata  in  which  the  cho- 


THE   STORY   OF  A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  2Ol 

ruses  are  for  children  and  the  solo  parts  for  adult  voices; 
and  for  Christmas,  1889,  "  Santa  Claus  &  Co."  These  can- 
tatas are  also  published  in  England,  though  in  some  cases 
under  different  names. 

My  other  works  since  my  return  are  "  The  Repertoire," 
for  High-Schools;  "  The  Empire  of  Song,"  and  "  The  Arena 
of  Song,"  (the  latter  with  Mr.  C.  C.  CaseJ  for  musical  con- 
ventions; "The  Glorious  Cause,"  for  temperance  work,  and 
a  little  cantata  for  Sunday-schools  called  "  The  Wonderlul 
Story,"  the  libretto  by  Mrs.  Mary  B.  Brooks,  of  Arkansas. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  the  popularity  of  the  idea  of 
"  cantatas  for  the  people."  We  know  at  once  what  is  meant 
when  we  say  "  songs  for  the  people."  In  that  sense  I  use 
the  term  "  cantatas  for  the  people."  They  began  with  "  The 
Flower  Queen,"  "  Daniel,"  and  "The  Haymakers,"  as  repre- 
sentatives of  the  three  kinds — juvenile,  scriptural  and  secu- 
lar. They  have  multiplied  greatly  of  late  years,  especially 
in  England.  Mr.  Curwen  spoke  to  me  while  I  was  at  his 
house  about  sending  me  librettos  when  he  should  find  those 
that  he  thought  would  suit  me.  This  he  has  done,  as  above 
mentioned,  and  I  am  now  at  work  upon  others.  This  brings 
the  record  of  my  principal  compositions  up  to  1890. 

In  the  autumn  of  1887  we  had  a  visit  from  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
J.  S.  Curwen,  and  no  one  who  met  them  wondered  at  their 
popularity  and  success  as  leaders  of  a  great  musical  move- 
ment in  England.  I  mention  Mrs.  Curwen's  name  in  this 
connection,  because  to  his  general  culture  and  remarkable 
gifts  as  a  leader  she  adds  such  attainments,  both  musical  and 
literary,  as  must  count  for  much  in  the  success  of  their  enter- 
prises. It  was  a  great  pleasure  to  return  some  of  their  kind- 
ness, and  to  note  their  friendly  and  unprejudiced  interest 
in  our  American  ways.  That  visit  is  a  theme  of  which  my 
family  never  tire. 

I  have  said  that  when  the  war  closed  all  interest  in  the 


202  THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE. 

war  songs  ceased.  For  years  they  were  out  of  sight,  but 
now  that  time  has  changed  the  terrible  realism  of  the  march 
and  the  battle-field  into  tender  and  hallowed  memories,  the 
songs  that  were  then  sung  have  come  back  with  redoubled 
interest.  Their  melodies  are  heard  on  all  patriotic  occasions, 
and  the  most  deeply  stirred  and  enthusiastic  audiences  of  the 
present  time  are  those  of  the  "  war-song  concerts."  I  have 
especially  in  mind  a  concert  of  this  kind  that  was  given  not 
long  ago  by  the  Apollo  Club  of  Chicago,  under  the  direction 
of  Win.  L.  Tomlins.  I  directed  the  performance  of  "Yes, 
we'll  rally  round  the  flag,  boys,"  (The  Battle-Cry  of  Free- 
dom) on  that  occasion,  and  as  I  came  forward,  said :  "  Here 
is  the  man  [J.  G.  Lumbard]  who  twenty-five  years  ago  sang 
that  song  on  the  court-house  steps  before  the  ink  of  the 
manuscript  was  dry.  He  will  sing  it  now.  Will  all  join  in 
the  chorus?"  Jule's  magnificent  voice  rang  out  just  as  it 
had  done  a  quarter  of  a  century  before.  The  immense  audi- 
ence rose  and,  impelled  by  their  intense  emotion,  joined  with 
the  band  and  the  grand  chorus  of  the  Apollo  Club,  produc- 
ing an  effect  never  to  be  forgotten. 

Soon  after  that  demonstration  I  was  elected  a  member 
of  the  Iroyal  Legion,  but  I  will  let  Mr.  Murray's  article,  in 
The  Musical  Visitor  which  followed,  tell  the  story.  Being 
in  the  war  himself,  he  was  in  a  condition  to  write  it  from  a 
soldier's  standpoint. 

THE  LOYAL  LEGION  AND  DR.  ROOT. 

The  readers  of  the  Visitor  will  be  interested  in  the  following 
notes  concerning  Dr.  Root's  initiation  into  the  "Loyal  Legion,"  a 
society  of  noble  men  who  have  in  this  case  honored  themselves  as 
well  as  the  recipient  of  their  very  exclusive  favors. 

The  "  Loyal  Legion  "  is  the  highest  of  the  military  and  patriotic 
organizations  of  the  country.  The  people  eligible  to  membership  in 
it  are,  in  the  first  class  Commissioned  officers  who  were  in  the  war, 
and  whose  record  then  and  since  is  satisfactory;  second  class — Their 


THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE.  203 

oldest  sons  on  arriving  at  the  age  of  twenty-one ;  third  class — Civil- 
ians who  rendered  "  important  service  "  during  the  war.  This  last 
membership  is  limited.  There  are  but  six  in  the  Illinois  Com- 
mandery,  which  has  over  two  hundred  members.  (General  Sheridan 
was  the  commander-in-chief  of  the  Order  at  the  time  of  his  death.) 

A  little  over  a  year  ago  the  former  president  of  the  Illinois  Sani- 
tary Commission  died,  and  a  month  ago  Dr.  George  F.  Root  was 
elected  to  fill  the  vacancy  caused  by  his  removal. 

If  there  is  any  civilian  who  performed  "  important  service  "  for 
the  Union  during  the  war,  Dr.  Root  is  that  man.  The  editor  of  the 
Visitor  was  in  the  field  during  all  the  hardest  fighting  of  the  war, 
and  had  abundant  opportunity  to  prove  the  above  assertion  true. 
The  late  testimonials  in  The  Century  magazine  from  men  and  officers 
concerning  the  wonderful  effect  of  Dr.  Root's  "  War  Songs  "  also  fully 
substantiate  our  claim.  But  then  this  fact  is  heartily  acknowledged 
everywhere,  and  nowhere  more  completely  than  in  the  "  Loyal  Le- 
gion," as  may  be  seen  from  the  fact  that  a  single  objection  to  a  can- 
didate of  this  class,  by  a  line  drawn  through  the  name  on  the  bal- 
lot, settles  the  question  and  excludes  the  candidate.  In  this  case  the 
election  was,  as  the  senator  from  Kansas  in  his  late  celebrated  speech 
said  of  another  election,  "more  than  unanimous." 

A  member  has  said  that  seldom  if  ever  has  a  name  been  received 
by  the  Order  with  so  much  enthusiasm  as  greeted  this  one.  Those 
familiar  with  the  customs  of  the  Order  can  very  well  see  why  this 
would  be  so.  After  the  business  and  "  refreshments  "  of  the  evening 
are  through,  the  members  gather  together  to  sing  the  old  war  songs. 
Staid  generals,  colonels,  majors,  captains,  chaplains,  and  all,  become 
boys  again,  and,  with  the  intense  sphere  of  the  old  days  about  them, 
pour  forth  such  a  volume  of  patriotic  earnestness  as  can  only  be  ap- 
preciated by  those  who  connect  those  melodies  with  camp,  the  march, 
ind  the  battle-field.  It  is  easy  to  see  why  the  man  who  had  to  do 
with  the  making  of  those  songs  was  so  kindly  received  and  heartily 
welcomed. 

Of  course  the  Doctor  was  asked  to  sing.  He  responded  with 
"Yes,  we'll  rally  round  the  flag,"  undoubtedly  the  strongest  of  his 
war  lyrics.  The  editor  of  the  Visitor  heard  this  song  once,  when  in 
the  outer  line  of  intrenchments  before  Petersburg,  within  talking 
distance  of  the  Confederate  line  of  battle.  He  never  expects  to  hear 
it  sung  again  as  it  was  sung  at  that  time,  but  the  nearest  approach  to 
it  would  be  to  hear  it  sung  by  the  "  boys  "  who  were  there,  who  now 
compose  these  patriotic  societies.     Here  are  the  men  who  shouted 


204  THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

that  line  when  the  next  minute  they  might  have  to  give  their  lives 
for  the  Union  they  were  fighting  to  maintain.  It  is  not  to  be  won- 
dered at  that  their  interest  in  the  old  songs  is  so  strong.  They  were 
the  companions  of  their  camp-fires,  their  cheer  on  many  long  and 
weary  marches,  and  their  inspiration  sometimes  on  the  very  field  of 
battle. 

The  attachments  and  associations  of  the  war  are  all  very  strong. 
While  the  animosities  have  nearly  all  disappeared  between  Union 
and  Confederates,  we  can  see  very  clearly  how  each  still  retains  love 
and  affection  for  its  leaders  and  for  each  other  and  for  the  old  songs, 
and  for  those  who  wrote  them.  We  congratulate  the  "  Loyal  Legion  " 
on  making  so  worthy  an  addition  to  its  membership.  The  Visitor 
is  inclined  to  indulge  in  a  little  personal  pride  in  the  matter,  as  Dr. 
Root  is  so  prominent  a  member  of  its  family. 

Speaking  of  the  Apollo  Club  brings  to  mind  the  musical 
organization  that  I  found  when  I  came  to  Chicago  in  1859. 
It  was  called  the  Musical  Union,  and  was  conducted  by  Mr. 
Cady  ;  but  soon  business  required  all  of  Mr.  Cady's  time,  and 
the  conduct  of  the  society  passed  into  other  hands.  The 
history  of  musical  societies  is  pretty  uniform.  A  few  insist 
in  the  outset  upon  practicing  music  beyond  the  ability  of  the 
chorus  to  perform,  and  of  the  audience  to  enjoy,  and  both 
drop  off.  Then  come  debt  and  appeals  to  the  consciences 
of  the  chorus,  and  the  purses  of  the  patrons,  to  sustain  a 
worthy  ( ? )  enterprise.  Then  follows  a  lingering  death — and 
all  because  a  few  leading  members  will  not  give  up  the  diffi- 
cult music  they  like  best,  for  the  simple  music  that  can  be 
well  sung  and  so  enjoyed.  The  Musical  Union  was  no  ex- 
ception to  this  rule,  only  it  did  not  reach  the  extremity  men- 
tioned above.  It  traveled  the  usual  path  until  it  had  become 
nearly  a  thousand  dollars  in  debt,  and  then  it  stopped  to 
think.  Some  one  suggested  that  instead  of  appealing  to  the 
people  for  help,  that  it  might  be  a  good  plan  to  try  to  please 
them,  and  so  get  them  to  pay  because  they  desired  to,  and 
net  because  they  ought  to.  In  this  exigency  they  asked  me 
to  give  "  The  Haymakers,"  which  I  was  very  happy  to  do 


THE    STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  205 

Two  performances  cleared  off  the  debt,  and  left  a  small  bal- 
ance in  the  treasury.  A  musical  organization  of  some  kind 
has  existed  ever  since — sometimes  two  or  three  of  them,  but 
with  no  marked  success  until  Mr.  Tomlins  came  in  1875  and 
started  with  the  Apollo  Club.  This  was  at  first  a  male-voice 
chorus ;  after  a  while  women's  voices  were  added.  With  some 
of  the  usual  mistakes,  and  with  some  fluctuations,  it  has  held 
on  ;  and  under  Mr.  Tomlins'  fine  leadership  has  become  one 
of  the  best  choruses  in  this  or  any  other  country. 

When  I  started  out  in  1838,  more  than  fifty  years  ago,  I 
was  the  oldest,  and  my  sister  Fanny,  then  a  baby,  the  young- 
est, of  a  family  of  eight — three  boys  and  five  girls.  There 
are  eight  still,  and  we  still  say  "  the  boys  "  and  "  the  girls  " ; 
but  considering  the  grandfathers  and  grandmothers  among 
us,  others  might  not  regard  those  terms  as  quite  appropriate. 
My  father  died  in  1866,  and  then  came  a  contest  for  the  dear 
mother.  All  wanted  her,  and  she,  wishing  to  gratify  all,  was 
sometimes  with  one  or  another  of  her  sons,  and  sometimes 
with  one  of  her  daughters.  I  do  not  know  how  many  jour- 
neys she  made  from  Boston  or  New  York  to  Chicago,  but  a 
good  many.  Finally,  as  she  approached  the  age  of  four  score, 
she  decided  upon  the  house  of  her  oldest  daughter  in  Orange, 
N.  J.,  as  her  home,  and  here  she  lived  most  happily,  passing 
away  in  188 1,  in  the  eighty-fifth  year  of  her  age.  If  any  of 
her  children  could  have  settled  down  in  North  Reading  she 
would  have  stayed  at  Willow  Farm,  but  as  that  could  not  be, 
she  decided  that  the  old  place  had  better  be  sold,  which  was 
done  soon  after  she  left  it.  She  was  so  inexpressibly  dear  to 
her  children  that  to  "  rise  and  call  her  blessed  "  is  ever  in  our 
minds,  when  we  think  of  her  loving  and  unselfish  life. 

My  branch  of  the  family  consists  of  wife,  two  married 
sons,  three  married  daughters  and  one  unmarried,  and  eleven 
grandchildren.  All  live  near,  excepting  Charles,  my  second 
son,  and  family,  who  are  in  the  neighborhood  of  New  York, 


206  THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL    LIFE. 

into  which  city  the  young  man  goes  daily  to  superintend 
certain  publications  of  which  he  is  proprietor. 

My  oldest  son,  Frederic  W.,  and  family  live,  as  do  all  the 
rest  of  us,  in  Hyde  Park,  near  Chicago.  If  this  young  man 
is  better  equipped  musically  and  otherwise  than  his  father 
was  at  his  age,  there  is  more  need  now  than  there  was  then, 
of  higher  attainment.  In  these  days  of  greater  demand,  one 
only  reaches  the  position  that  he  occupies  as  a  musician, 
teacher  and  writer,  by  beginning  in  advance  of  the  previous 
generation  and  then  super-adding  to  his  inheritance,  years  of 
close  study  and  hard  work.  It  would  be  pleasant  to  give 
some  account  of  his  very  successful  and  remunerative  work, 
but  that  would  hardly  be  proper  here.  I  will,  however,  say 
that  he  teaches  and  writes  ten  months  in  the  year,  and  then 
in  the  summer,  when  he  is  not  at  Normal,  is  the  bold  and 
hardy  navigator  of  a  cat-boat  on  the  broad  waters  of  Lake 
Michigan,  where  he  stores  up  air  and  sunshine  for  his  winter 
campaign. 

My  children  were  all  inclined  more  or  less  to  music  as  a 
profession  as  they  were  growing  up,  and  all  are  considerably 
above  mediocrity  as  players  or  singers  ;  but  F.  W.  is  the  only 
one  who  has  persisted  in  the  original  inclination.  My  oldest 
daughter,  Mrs.  Clara  Louise  Burnham,  is  not  unknown  to 
fame  as  a  writer  of  good  books  of  fiction,  and  I  venture  to 
speak  further  of  this  member  of  my  family,  because  her  career 
illustrates  a  point  in  my  own  case  to  which  I  have  two  or 
three  times  alluded. 

After  her  marriage,  Mrs.  Burnham,  having  a  good  deal  of 
leisure  and  no  family  cares,  felt  a  desire  for  some  especial 
occupation.  One  day  her  brother  F.  W.  said :  "  Write  a 
book,  Clara ;  anybody  who  can  write  so  good  a  letter  as  you 
can,  can  write  a  good  story."  She  certainly  never  felt  that 
she  had  a  "  call "  in  that  direction,  but  she  tried  it,  and  has 
had  no  heavy  hours  upon  her  hands  since  that  time. 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  207 

My  younger  daughters  are  much  interested  in  art,  in 
which  they  are  fairly  successful,  not  neglecting,  however, 
their  musical  studies. 

Of  the  clan  in  general,  including  brothers  and  sisters, 
nephews  and  nieces,  and  the  families  with  which  they  are 
connected,  living  near,  it  is  only  necessary  to  sound  the  call 
and  more  than  thirty  respond.  All  are  musical — the  children 
of  my  brother  K.  T.  conspicuously  so.  They  occupy  some 
of  the  best  choir  positions  in  the  city,  and  one  of  the  young 
ladies  is  one  of  Chicago's  best  amateur  pianists.  One  of  our 
modes  of  enjoyment  is  worth  mentioning :  Nearly  all  are 
members  of  the  Hyde  Park  Yacht  Club,  whose  fine  boat- 
house  is  close  by.  On  calm  summer  evenings  a  small  fleet 
drifts  out  a  half  mile  or  so  from  shore,  and  a  song  com- 
mences— 

"  Sweet  and  low,  sweet  and  low, 
Wind  of  the  western  sea," 

or  some  other  in  which  all  can  join.  Then  the  congregation 
begins  to  assemble.  Boats  shoot  out  from  all  along  the  coast 
until  we  are  surrounded  by  a  sympathetic  and  appreciative 
audience.  The  whole  fleet  is  then  held  together  by  lines  or 
hands,  and  we  drift,  sometimes  up  toward  the  city,  sometimes 
down  toward  the  great  park,  and  sometimes  farther  out  into 
the  "  saltless  sea,"  just  as  the  current  or  the  light  breeze  may 
take  us,  but  "  making  music  as  we  go,"  and  enjoying  to  the 
full  the  luxury  of  the  lovely  scene.  Our  boats  and  the  com- 
panionship of  the  club  are  a  great  resource  in  the  summer. 


-OS  THE   STORY   OF  A   MUSICAL    UFE. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

THK  JOHN  CHURCH  CO. — THE  PRINCIPALS  OP  THE  HOUSE  — 
THEIR  HOMES — ANCESTRAL  DESCENT — THE  MEMORABLE 
CELEBRATION  AT  THE  HYDE  PARK  HIGH-SCHOOL  —  MR. 
JOHN  CHURCH'S  DEATH — PREPARATIONS  FOR  THE  WORLD'S 
COLUMBIAN  EXPOSITION  —  MY  PIANO  TRADE — MY  SEVEN- 
TIETH   BIRTHDAY — VALE! 

THERE  are  some  people  who  seem  to  have  been  forced 
by  circumstances  into  the  wrong  niche  in  this  world, 
and  whose  work,  in  consequence,  is  a  dread  in  the  anticipa- 
tion and  a  drudgery  in  the  performance.  I  am  humbly 
thankful  that  that  has  not  been  my  lot.  My  work  has  always 
been  my  greatest  pleasure,  and  still  is.  If  I  was  for  a  time 
crowded  into  a  niche  that  belonged  to  somebody  else,  all 
that  passed  away  when  we  arranged  with  the  John  Church 
Co.,  as  already  described.  From  that  time,  as  I  have  said, 
my  business  cares  vanished,  and  I  have  been  occupied  in 
the  congenial  work  of  making  such  books,  cantatas,  songs 
or  numbers  for  their  Annuals  (Christmas  and  Easter  Selec- 
tions, etc.)  or  The  Musical  Visitor,  as  are  thought  needful, 
while  they  attend  to  all  the  business  matters  connected  with 
these  works — copyrights,  arrangements  with  English  pub- 
lishers, permissions,  etc. 

Mr.  Church,  the  founder  of  this  house,  and  Mr.  Trevor, 
his  long-time  partner,  may  well  be  proud  of  its  success,  for 
that  success,  as  I  have  abundant  reason  to  know,  is  founded 
upon  the  most  honorable  business  principles  and  the  most 
upright  business  transactions.  I  may  not  speak  in  detail  of 
their  arrangement  with  me,  nor  of  the  many  generous  acts 


THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE.  209 

which  have  characterized  our  years  of  relationship,  but  I 
should  be  recreant  to  my  sense  of  right  if  I  did  not  take  this 
opportunity  to  record  my  .appreciation  of  their  unvarying 
kindness  and  consideration,  and  of  my  great  satisfaction  in 
doing  all  in  my  power  for  their  interests. 

When  the  May  Festival,  or  other  errand,  calls  me  to 
Cincinnati,  it  is  a  great  pleasure  to  enjoy  the  hospitality 
of  Mr.  Trevor's  beautiful  home  on  Mt.  Auburn,  or  in  the 
summer  to  be  a  guest  at  Mr.  Church's  old  colonial  residence 
in  Rhode  Island.  Ancestral  descent  is  not  a  strong  point 
with  the  majority  of  American  people,  nor  are  many  situated 
in  localities  of  historic  interest ;  but  in  Mr.  Church's  case 
both  these  conditions  obtain  in  a  remarkable  degree.  Not 
far  away  from  his  residence  is  Mt.  Hope,  where  King  Philip, 
of  the  Narragansetts,  lived  and  fought,  and  back  from  Mr. 
John  Church,  in  an  unbroken  line,  is  Capt.  Benjamin  Church, 
who  defeated  the  great  chief  and  brought  the  famous  war 
called  "  King  Philip's  War  "  to  a  close. 

The  present  house  stands  on  ground  deeded  to  the  family 
in  1674,  and  in  the  establishment  rare  skill  and  taste  have 
been  shown  in  combining  modern  elegance  and  convenience 
with  the  old  colonial  architecture  and  surroundings.  In 
plain  sight  from  Mr.  Church's  residence  is  also  the  spot 
where  John  Alden  and  his  wife  Priscilla  Mullins  lived.  This 
Priscilla,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  the  maiden  made  famous 
in  L/ongfellow's  poem,  "  The  Courtship  of  Miles  Standish." 
Both  she  and  John  came  over  in  the  May  Flower.  In  the 
village  church-yard  are  the  grave  and  monument  of  their 
daughter  Elizabeth,  who  was  the  first  white  female  child 
born  in  the  colony.  She  married  William  Peabody,  and 
died  at  the  age  of  94  in  17 17. 

And  now  I  am  approaching  the  end  of  my  story,  but  I 
can  not  close  without  recording  a  recent  event  which  was  as 
unexpected  as  it  will  ever  be  memorable.    We  have  in  Hyde 


2IO  THE    STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   UFK. 

Park  one  of  the  finest  high-schools  in  the  state,  not  only  as 
to  building,  but  equally  as  to  faculty  and  pupils.  They  use 
there  one  of  my  books  for  their  musical  studies,  and  one  day 
one  of  the  teachers  asked  me  if  I  would  come  some  afternoon 
and  listen  to  a  program  to  consist  entirely  of  my  works.  I 
said  I  should  be  glad  to  do  so,  and  the  8th  of  March,  1889, 
was  fixed  upon  for  the  event.  It  would  be  hard  to  find  a 
more  astonished  individual  than  the  writer,  on  arriving  at 
the  scene  of  action.  It  was  a  series  of  surprises  from  begin- 
ning to  end.  First  the  crowd,  then  the  decorations,  then 
the  performances,  then  the  letters  and  speeches  of  distin- 
guished people,  winding  up  with  the  congratulations  of 
neighbors  and  friends ;  but  I  will  let  the  published  reports 
describe  the  occasion.  If  it  is  thought  that  I  am  printing 
too  much  praise  of  myself,  I  have  only  to  say  that  I  can  not 
otherwise  record  the  great  kindness  of  the  friends  who  so 
honored  me.  Beside,  the  event  took  on  something  of  a 
public  character,  from  the  fact  that  the  Associated  Press  de- 
spatches made  it  known  all  over  the  land,  as  the  letters  from 
many  states,  which  followed,  abundantly  testified.  Chicago 
papers  the  next  day  said : 

At  the  Hyde  Park  High-School  Dr.  George  F.  Root  was  the  re- 
cipient, yesterday  afternoon,  of  all  the  honor  the  two  hundred 
students  and  their  teachers  and  two  hundred  more  friends  and  ad- 
mirers could  well  bestow.  The  spacious  hall  of  the  building  was 
profusely  decorated  with  flags  and  banners,  and  on  its  walls  were 
tablets  in  a  variety  of  colors,  bearing  the  names  of  his  best-known 
compositions,  each  with  an  appropriate  design.  On  the  platform 
were  stacked  old  army  muskets  in  threes,  and  in  the  cradles  formed 
by  the  bayonets  rested  birds'  nests,  emblematical  of  a  united  and 
peaceful  country.  At  the  left  of  the  platform  was  a  war  relic  in  the 
shape  of  an  army  tent,  in  front  of  which  burned  a  miniature  camp- 
fire;  bunches  of  swords  here  and  there,  and  an  excellent  portrait  of 
Dr.  Root,  draped  in  national  colors  and  hung  over  the  platform,  com- 
pleted the  ornamentations.  The  musical  exercises  consisted  of  the 
performance  of  vocal  and  instrumental  numbers  selected. from  Dr. 


TH£  STORY  OF  A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  211 

Root's  compositions,  and  of  the  ode  printed  below,  which  last  was 
composed  by  one  of  the  teachers  of  the  school.  These  exercises 
were  interspersed  by  papers  composed  and  read  by  members  of  the 
school  on  various  subjects  connected  with  the  Doctor's  life  and 
works,  and  by  the  following  letters  from  distinguished  individuals, 
which  were  in  response  to  invitations  to  the  celebration,  sent  by 
one  of  the  teachers  of  the  school.  That  from  James  Russell  Lowell 
is  as  follows: 

No.  68  Beacon  St.,  Boston,  Mass. 

It  is  impossible  for  me  to  be  present  at  your  interesting  celebra- 
tion, but  I  remember  too  well  the  martial  cadences  of  Dr.  Root's 
songs,  and  how  vividly  our  hearts  beat  in  tune  to  them,  not  to  add 
gladly  my  felicitations  to  yours.  I  prize  gratitude  highly,  and  you 
could  not  have  chosen  a  fitter  creditor  to  whom  it  should  be  paid, 
or  a  better  form  in  which  to  pay  it.     Pray  add  mine  to  your  own. 

Yours  faithfully, 

J.  R.  Loweu,. 

The  present  Governor  of  Illinois  writes: 

I  count  it  a  privilege  to  be  permitted  to  join  the  scholars  of  the 
Hyde  Park  High-School  in  a  tribute  to  Dr.  George  F.  Root.  Only 
those  who  were  at  the  front,  camping,  marching,  battling  for  the 
flag,  can  fully  realize  how  often  we  were  cheered,  revived  and  in- 
spired by  the  songs  of  him  who  sent  forth  the  "Battle-Cry  of 
Freedom."  The  true  and  correct  history  of  the  war  for  the  main- 
tenance of  the  Union  will  place  George  F.  Root's  name  alongside  of 
our  great  generals.  While  others  led  the  boys  in  blue  to  final  vic- 
tory, it  was  his  songs  that  nerved  the  men  at  the  front  and  solaced 
the  wives,  mothers,  sisters,  and  sweethearts  at  home,  while  more  than 
a  million  voices  joined  in  the  chorus,  "The  Union  forever." 

Will  you  please  convey  to  your  distinguished  guest  my  kindest 
regards  and  best  wishes.  Sincerely  yours, 

J.  W.  FiFER. 

Col.  Fred.  Grant  writes : 

The  author  of  "  Rally  round  the  flag,  boys,"  and  "  Tramp,  tramp, 
tramp,  the  boys  are  marching,"  should  have  as  hearty  a  welcome  as 
it  is  possible  to  extend  to  any  living  man.  His  songs  were  a  great 
comfort  to  the  soldiers  during  the  war,  and  helped  to  lighten  the 
fatigues  of  many  a  weary  march.  Tell  Dr.  Root  that  I  am  grateful 
for  the  service  he  rendered. 

F.  D.  Grant. 

Rev.  S.  F.  Smith,  D.  D.,  author  of  "  My  country,  'tis  of  thee," 
says: 

It  gives  me  unalloyed  pleasure  to  speak  a  word  or  two  in  honor 
of  the  man  whose  genius  has  given  to  his  countrymen,  and  to  the 
world,  the  inspiring  lays,  "Rally  round  the  flag,  boys,"  "Tramp, 


212  THK   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIF£. 

Tramp,  Tramp,"  and  "  Shining  Shore."  There  is  no  greater  honor 
or  privilege  than  to  have  attuned  the  harp  of  the  nation  to  words 
and  tunes  of  patriotic  zeal,  and  the  harps  of  the  world  to  a  music 
which  beats  time  to  the  march  of  a  redeemed  race  to  a  holy  and 
happy  heaven. 

May  your  honored  guest  long  listen  to  the  music  of  that  march, 
and  find  his  path  ever  growing  more  luminous  with  the  light  from 
that  Shining  Shore. 

With  assurances  of  sincere  respect  and  honor  to  him,  and  the 
best  wishes  for  your  pupils,  that  some  of  them  may  rise  up  in  his 
spirit  to  carry  forward  his  work,  I  am, 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

S.  F.  Smith. 

Edward  Everett  Hale,  whose  response  came  too  late  to 
be  read  on  that  occasion,  wrote  from  Washington  as  follows: 

Dear  Sir  :  Your  note  has  followed  me  here.  I  hope  this  may  be 
in  time  for  me  to  join  with  the  rest  of  the  world  in  thanking  Dr.  Root 
for  the  strength,  courage  and  life  he  has  given  to  us  all. 

Very  truly  yours, 

Edward  E.  Hai^e. 

The  response  of  J.  G.  Lumbard,  Esq.,  now  of  Omaha, 
whose  magnificent  voice  was  the  first  to  give  utterance  to 
the  "  Battle-Cry  of  Freedom,"  was  also  too  late  to  be  read  on 
the  day  of  the  celebration,  but  was  subsequently  published 
in  one  of  our  local  papers. 

Dear  Sir:  I  am  most  certainly  and  most  sincerely  in  sympathy 
with  the  movement  inaugurated  at  Hyde  Park,  looking  to  an  ap- 
propriate recognition  of  the  good  service  and  unusual  desert  of  our 
mutual  friend  and  confrere,  Dr.  Geo.  F.  Root,  and  I  very  much  regret 
that  the  delayed  arrival  of  your  invitation  prevents  its  acceptance  or 
any  timely  response.     It  came  to  hand  on  the  day  of  the  event. 

No  words  of  mine  can  add  anything  to  the  glory  and  beauty  of 
a  well-spent  life,  nor  give  increased  lustre  to  the  shining  character 
of  one  whose  career  has  been  that  of  a  universal  benefactor. 

It  is  not  alone  the  community  in  which  he  has  lived  and  exer- 
cised the  rights  and  discharged  the  responsibilities  of  citizenship, 
that  owes  a  debt  of  honor  and  gratitude  to  Dr.  Root:  the  whole 
people  have  been  educated  to  a  nobler  patriotism  and  higher  citizen- 
ship by  the  illustrated  virtues  of  his  life, and  the  beneficent  influence 
of  his  character  and  teachings. 


THE   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL    LIFE.  213 

We  honor  the  great  soldier  by  whose  genius  and  prowess  the 
way  has  been  carved  to  victory  and  peace;  but  greater  than  the 
soldier  is  he  who  prevents  appeal  to  arms,  and  preserves  our  green 
fields  for  lawns  instead  of  devoting  them  to  grave-yards  for  the 
brave.  All  this,  without  noise  and  without  pretense,  has  been 
done  by  the  gentleman  to  whom  it  is  honorable  to  pay  honor  and 
homage. 

If  opportunity  offers,  please  express  from  me  the  kindest  re- 
membrance to  Dr.  Root,  and  regret  at  my  inability  to  be  present  in 
accordance  with  the  terms  of  your  invitation. 

Yours  very  truly, 

J.  G.  LUMBARD. 

Several  other  communications,  including  a  few  words 
from  Generals  Sherman  and  Alger,  were  also  received. 
Some  war  reminiscences  from  Dr.  H.  H.  Belfield,  formerly 
Adjutant  of  the  Iowa  Cavalry  Volunteers,  now  principal  of 
the  Chicago  Manual  Training  School,  were  listened  to  with 
great  interest  and  with  general  surprise,  for  but  few  of  those 
present  knew  that  he  had  been  a  soldier  and  a  prisoner  dur- 
ing the  eventful  time  of  which  he  speaks.     He  said  : 

It  affords  me  great  pleasure  to  unite  in  this  testimonial  to  our 
neighbor,  Dr.  Root,  whose  character  as  well  as  whose  life-work  com- 
mands our  admiration. 

The  overthrow  of  the  enemies  of  the  Republic  in  the  late  war 
was  a  stupendous  undertaking,  demanding  the  supreme  effort  of  the 
loyal  North,  not  only  of  the  men  who  took  the  field,  but  of  the  men 
and  women  who  remained  at  home.  Not  men  alone  were  needed, 
but  arms,  ammunition,  clothing  and  food ;  not  material  support 
only,  but  sympathy  as  well.  The  Union  soldier  was  cheered  by  many 
kind  and  loving  messages  from  the  yearning,  often  aching,  hearts 
of  wives  and  children,  of  parents  and  friends.  How  precious  was 
the  consciousness  of  this  remembrance  can  be  known  only  by  those 
who  tore  themselves  from  the  fond  embrace  of  loved  ones  to  endure 
the  hardship  of  the  march,  and  face  the  grim  terrors  of  the  blooay 
field. 

Among  the  friends  who,  in  those  awful  years,  served  his  country 
effectually,  more  effectually  by  his  pen  than  any  man  could  have 
done  by  his  sword,  was  Dr.  George  F.  Root.     You  have  heard  to-day 


214  THE   STORY    OF   A    MUSICAL    LIFE. 

how  his  songs  encouraged  our  troops  even  in  that  frightful  cam- 
paign near  Richmond.  Permit  me  to  tell  briefly  how  they  cheered 
the  prisoners  of  war. 

It  was  the  31st  day  of  July,  1864,  in  Newnan,  Georgia.  The 
starry  banner  with  which  you,  my  young  friends,  have  so  beautifully 
decorated  this  room,  had  gone  down  in  blood  and  death  ;  the  hated 
rebel  rag  was  flying  in  triumph  over  the  heads  of  a  small  company 
of  Union  soldiers,  who,  having  obeyed  the  orders  that  they  well 
knew  would  sacrifice  them,  had  saved  hundreds  of  their  comrades, 
and  were  now  prisoners  of  war.  Their  appearance  showed  the  effects 
of  hard  campaigning— bronzed  faces,  torn  and  ragged  garments, 
with  here  and  there  a  rough  bandage  stained  with  blood.  But  their 
spirits  were  undaunted,  and  as  the  populace  gathered  around  them, 
curious  to  see  the  hated  Yankees,  and,  perhaps,  to  exult  over  their 
ill  fortune,  the  little  band  sang  the  patriotic  songs  which  had  been 
wafted  from  "  God's  Country." 

When  wre  sang,  with  all  the  emphasis  of  which  we  were  capable, 

"Rally  round  the  flag,  boys; 
Down  with  the  traitor!'1'' 

I  fully  expected  marked  symptoms  of  disapproval ;  but  the  increas- 
ing crowd  seemed  to  enjoy  the  novel  spectacle,  and,  when  we  ceased 
singing,  shouted  for  more  songs.  Then  we  said,  "  We  are  tired  ;  we 
are  hungry ;  we  have  had  no  food  for  many  hours.  Give  us  some- 
thing to  eat,  and  we  will  sing  for  you."  Food  was  soon  brought,  and 
I  now  take  this  opportunity,  long  delayed,  to  thank  you,  Doctor  Root, 
for  what,  while  it  could  not  be  called  "  a  square  meal,"  is  well  and 
gratefully  remembered  after  these  many  years. 

The  latter  part  of  the  summer  of  1864  I  spent,  together  with 
several  hundred  Union  officers,  at  the  sea-side,  at  the  expense  of  the 
Southern  Confederacy.  The  place  selected  for  our  temporary  retire- 
ment from  active  life  was  Charleston,  S.  C.  Three  hundred  of  us 
were  in  the  work-house  prison,  in  what  particular  part  of  the  city 
located  I  never  knew,  since  the  wishes  of  our  hosts,  expressed  in 
high  walls  and  southern  muskets,  prevented  our  exploring  the  town. 
But  we  knew  that  the  sea  was  near,  for  the  huge,  fifteen-inch  shells 
of  the  "Swamp  Angel,"  screaming  over  our  heads,  scattered  brick 
and  mortar  over  the  grass-grown  streets  of  the  hot-bed  of  the 
Rebellion. 

Late  one  afternoon  in  September  our  attention  was  directed  to 
the  entrance  of  men   into  the  adjoining  prison-yard.     We  rushed  to 


THE   STORY   OF  A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  215 

the  windows  on  that  side  of  the  prison-house,  and  anxiously  in- 
spected the  new  comers.  With  faces  blacked  by  sun  and  stained 
with  dirt,  their  clothing  scant  and  torn,  they  wearily  dragged  them- 
selves into  the  prison-pen.  Before  they  came  within  speaking  dis- 
tance the  faded  army  blue  of  their  uniforms  suggested  the  truth. 
"Who  are  you?"  we  asked.  "  Andersonville  prisoners."  May  I  never 
behold  another  such  sight.  Their  piercing  eyes,  their  emaciated 
features,  their  shrunken  limbs,  now  concealed,  now  revealed  by  their, 
ragged  uniforms,  their  bloody  bandages,  told  the  awful  story  of  slow 
starvation.  We  shared  with  them  our  scanty  rations,  and  after  a 
frugal  meal  on  each  side  of  the  wall,  which  neither  party  could 
cross,  we  did  all  we  could  for  them ;  we  sang  Doctor  Root's  songs, 
and  cheered  their  hearts  with  our  sympathy.  Never  had  poor  per- 
formers so  attentive  an  audience.  Long  into  the  night  we  sang,  and 
in  the  early  morning  wTe  dismissed  them,  Doctor  Root,  with  your 
ringing  chorus,  in  which  their  feeble  voices  were  heard — 

"  Tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  the  boys  are  marching, 
Cheer  up,  comrades,  they  will  come  ; 
And  beneath  the  starry  flag  we  shall  breathe  the  air  again 
Of  the  free-land  in  our  own  beloved  home." 

The  following  Ode  was  most  effectively  rendered  by  a 
semi-chorus  of  the  students,  all  the  school  coming  in,  after 
the  first  verse,  with  the  chorus  of  "There's  music  in  the 
air,"  after  the  second,  with  the  chorus  of  the  "  Battle-Cry, " 
and  after  the  third,  with  the  chorus  of  the  "  Shining  Shore." 

THE  SINGER  OF  HOME. 

Happy  is  he 
Whose  ears  have  heard  the  sound 
Of  music  from  glad  voices  singing 
Songs  himself  has  made. 

From  sea  to  sea, 
Wherever  home  is  found, 
His  loved  refrains  are  ever  ringing 
Clear  in  grove  and  glade. 

Chorus :    There's  music  in  the  air. 


2l6  THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

THE  MAKER  OF  WAR  SONGS. 

Proud  is  the  man 
Whose  words  can  nerve  the  arm 
Of  freemen  to  their  noblest  trying, 
And  urge  them  on  ; 
From  rear  to  van 
His  war  songs'  loud  alarm 
Inspired  the  living,  cheered  the  dying, 
Till  war  was  gone. 

Chorus:    The  Union  forever! 

THE  WRITER  OF  HYMNS. 

How  nobly  best 
Is  he  who  puts  to  song 
The  comfort  of  the  weary ;  driving 
Sorrow's  tears  away. 
Sweet  peace  and  rest 
Unto  his  lays  belong 
Which  sing  of  end  to  toil  and  striving 
Some  glorious  day. 
Chorus :    For  oh,  we  stand  on  Jordan's  strand. 

Then  came  a  toast  to  which  I  was  obliged  to  respond.  I 
could  not  make  much  of  a  speech.  The  difference  between 
"  Come  down  some  afternoon  and  hear  us  sing,"  and  this 
magnificent  demonstration,  was  too  much  for  me.  However, 
I  could  say  that  such  an  occasion  was  a  great  reward,  and  a 
great  encouragement  for  me  in  my  work,  and  that  I  should 
never  forget  the  young  people  and  their  teachers  who  had  so 
honored  me. 

To  Mr.  Ray,  the  principal  of  the  school,  and  to  Mr. 
McAndrew,  whose  invitations  called  forth  the  foregoing 
responses,  and  who  composed  the  Ode,  and  to  Mr.  Stevens, 
whose  artistic  hand  was  seen  in  the  beautiful  decorations 
of  the  hall,  I  could  express  more  fully  my  surprise  at  the 
amount  of  work  that  teachers  and  pupils  had  done,  and  the 


THE    STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL    LIFE.  217 

deep  and  thankful  pride  I  felt  at  being  so  honored  by  my 
neighbors. 

It  is  now  1 89 1.  Most  of  this  story,  as  I  have  said,  was 
written  in  1889.  Of  the  persons  mentioned,  who  have  died 
since  that  time,  the  most  important  in  its  connection  with 
these  records  was  the  death  of  Mr.  John  Church,  which  took 
place  April  19,  1890. 

In  connection  with  what  is  said  of  Mr.  Church  in  its 
proper  place,  I  would  like  to  add  here  the  few  words  I  wrote 
for  The  Musical  Visitor  at  the  time  of  the  sudden  bereave- 
ment. We  heard  of  his  illness  one  day,  and  of  his  death  the 
next. 

One  of  Nature's  noblemen  lias  gone  ;  and  gone  with  such  sudden- 
ness that  we  gaze  after  his  vanishing  form  as  in  a  dream.  It  does 
not  seem  possible  that  we  shall  not  see  again  that  stalwart  form, 
nor  feel  again  the  friendly  grasp  of  that  strong  hand.  We  could  not 
readily  connect  death  with  him,  he  was  so  full  of  vigor  as  he  carried 
on,  in  his  masterful  way,  the  important  enterprises  in  which  he  was 
engaged. 

From  the  dark  days  that  followed  the  great  fire,  when  the  strong 
house  of  which  Mr.  Church  was  chief,  took  hold  of  and  sustained  us 
in  the  crippled  state  in  which  the  great  disaster  left  us,  to  the  time 
of  his  death  he  was  a  true  friend — kind  without  pretension,  and 
generous  without  ostentation ;  a  wise  counselor  and  a  safe  guide. 
Among  my  most  valued  memories  will  be  those  of  this  noble  man. 

The  wisdom  of  the  house  in  forming  itself  into  a  stock 
company  three  or  four  years  ago,  was  clearly  seen  at  the 
time  of  this  sad  event.  Not  a  ripple  disturbed  the  onward 
flow  of  its  business ;    all  goes  as  before,  so  far  as  I  can  see. 

Chicago  is  a  very  interesting  place  just  now.  We  are 
getting  ready  for  the  World's  Fair,  or  better,  as  it  is  begin- 
ning to  be  called,  "  The  World's  Columbian  Exposition." 
The  inner  and  the  outer  world  here — the  world  of  mind  and 


2l8  THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFK. 

the  world  of  matter,  are  intensely  alive,  devising  plans  of 
use  and  enjoyment,  which  are  beginning  to  ultimate  them- 
selves in  visible  forms. 

Among  the  new  plans  is  "The  Auxiliary  Commission 
of  the  World's  Columbian  Exposition,"  which  has  for  its 
motto  "  Not  Things,  but  Men."  I  will  let  its  prospectus 
state  its  object : 

As  is  now  well  known,  the  four  hundredth  anniversary  of  the 
discovery  of^America  by  Christopher  Columbus  will  be  celebrated 
at  Chicago  in  1893,  under  the  sanction  of  the  Government  of  the 
United  States,  on  a  scale  commensurate  with  the  importance  and 
dignity  of  the  occasion. 

The  measures  already  taken  give  satisfactory  assurances  that 
the  exposition  then  to  be  made  of  the  material  progress  of  the  world 
will  be  such  as  to  deserve  unqualified  approval. 

But  to  make  the  exposition  complete  and  the  celebration 
adequate,  the  wonderful  achievements  of  the  new  age  in  science, 
literature,  education,  government,  jurisprudence,  morals,  charity, 
religion,  and  other  departments  of  human  activity,  should  also  be 
conspicuously  displayed,  as  the  most  effective  means  of  increasing 
the  fraternity,  prosperity,  and  peace  of  mankind. 

It  has  therefore  been  proposed  that  a  series  of  World's  Con- 
gresses for  that  purpose  be  held  in  connection  with  the  World's 
Columbian  Exposition  of  1893,  and  The  World's  Congress 
Auxiliary  has  been  duly  authorized  and  organized,  to  promote  the 
holding  and  success  of  such  congresses. 

It  is  impossible  to  estimate  the  advantages  that  would  result 
from  the  mere  establishment  of  personal  acquaintance  and  friendly 
relations  among  the  leaders  of  the  intellectual  and  moral  world, 
who  now,  for  the  most  part,  know  each  other  only  through  the 
interchange  of  publications,  and,  perhaps,  the  formalities  of  corre- 
spondence. 

And  what  is  transcendently  more  important,  such  congresses, 
convened  under  circumstances  so  auspicious,  would  doubtless  sur- 
pass all  previous  efforts  to  bring  about  a  real  fraternity  of  nations, 
and  unite  the  enlightened  people  of  the  whole  earth  in  a  general 
co-operation  for  the  attainment  of  the  great  ends  for  which  human 
society  is  organized. 


THK   STORY   OF   A    MUSICAL   LIFE).  219 

This  organization  is  intended  to  promote  the  success  of  the 
exposition  of  the  material  products  of  civilization,  science  and  art, 
but  will  confine  its  own  operations  to  the  exposition,  in  appropriate 
conventions,  of  the  principles  of  human  progress. 

Charges  C.  Bonney,         Lyman  J.  Gage, 

President.  Treasurer. 

Thomas  B.  Bryan,  Benjamin  Butterworth, 

Vice-President.  Secretary. 

These  congresses  will  be  held  at  such  times,  during  the 
Exposition,  as  will  be  most  convenient  to  each. 

Considerable  importance  has  been  attached  to  the  as- 
sembling of  a  Musical  Congress  on  this  occasion,  which 
shall  include  prominent  musicians  and  musical  educators  of 
this  and  other  countries.  I  am  one  of  the  five  members  of 
the  commission  chosen  for  the  furtherance  of  this  object. 

One  of  the  greatest  causes  of  excitement  at  present  in 
Chicago,  in  view  of  the  coming  World's  Exposition,  is  the 
real  estate  "  boom  "  now  upon  us.  The  land  romances,  as  they 
might  almost  be  called,  of  earlier  times,  are  being  re-enacted 
every  day.     Every  old  resident  has  one  or  more  to  tell. 

In  the  "  earlier  times  "  a  man  took  a  piece  of  ground  out 
on  the  prairie  for  a  small  debt,  or  he  let  a  friend  have  a  piano 
or  other  article  of  merchandise  for  a  lot  or  two.  Such  prop- 
erty was  regarded  as  of  little  consequence.  Almost  every 
business  man  had  some.  While  for  one  reason  or  another 
(the  great  fire  a  prominent  one)  I  have  failed  to  hold  on  to 
the  large  amounts  of  money  which  have  been  realized  from 
my  music,  some  of  these  small  patches  of  Chicago  ground 
that  had  been  in  my  possession  many  years,  when  the  de- 
cision in  regard  to  the  World's  Fair  was  made  known,  came 
to  the  front,  and  were  disposed  of  in  a  way  to  entitle  the 
transaction  to  a  place  in  the  romances  referred  to. 

I  will  not  enlarge  upon  my  seventieth  birthday  celebra- 
tion, farther  than  to  say  it  was  intended  to  be  simply  and 
wholly  a  family  affair,  but  my  friends  of  the  Chicago  papers 


220  THE   STORY   OF  A   MUSICAL   LIFE. 

got  wind  of  it,  and  the  reporters  and  the  Associated  Press 
despatches  did  the  rest.  Gifts  and  congratulations  from 
home  and  abroad  poured  in  most  generously,  and  the  auto- 
graph stream,  which,  if  small  is,  in  general,  remarkably 
steady,  grew  into  a  freshet,  which  did  not  subside  for  three 
or  four  weeks. 

Of  all  the  communications  received  on  that  occasion  a 
poem  by  Mr.  Murray,  which  was  printed  about  that  time  in 
The  Musical  Visitor,  moved  me  most.  I  do  not  deserve  it, 
and  it  pushes  the  appearance  of  self-praise,  of  which  I  have 
spoken,  to  the  very  verge  of  propriety  for  me  to  print  it,  but 
it  is  so  fine  in  itself,  and  is  so  pleasant  an  event  in  my  story, 
that  I  decide  it  must  go  in  with  the  other  kind  and  generous 
things  which  have  done  so  much  toward  making  my  life  a 
happy  and  thankful  one. 

TO  DR.  GEO.  F.  ROOT. 

ON   HIS  SEVENTIETH   BIRTHDAY. 

Dear  Master  and  friend,  I  salute  you ! 
The  sapling  bends  low  to  the  oak-tree, 
And  I  am  but  one  in  a  forest 
Of  those  who  would  fain  do  you  homage. 
Your  years  have  been  many  and  blessed, 
Though  mingled  with  sunshine  and  shadow, 
The  life  spent  in  service  for  others 
Dwells  not  in  the  regions  of  darkness. 

How  grand  are  the  gifts  of  the  singer, 
Whose  voice  tuned  to  thoughts  that  are  noble 
Sends  out  to  the  world  in  its  sorrow 
The  music  that  lightens  its  labor. 
How  brightens  the  eye  of  the  lover 
When  song  in  sweet  notes  tells  his  story. 
How  firm  is  the  tread  of  the  soldier 
When  song  nerves  his  soul  for  the  battle. 
So  far  o'er  the  wastes  of  the  waters 
The  wanderer  sings  of  his  homeland, 


THE   STORY   OF   A   MUSICAL   LIFE.  221 

And  cheered  by  the  music  of  childhood, 
Forgets  all  the  pain  and  the  toiling. 

Thus  up  from  the  labor  of  earthland 
He  gazes  whose  home  is  in  Heaven, 
And  sings  as  he  works,  as  he  wanders, 
Of  those  who  await  his  home-coming. 

All  these,  dearest  master,  salute  you, 
And  hosts  of  the  sweet  little  children, 
Whose  studies  your  music  made  easy, 
As  climbing  the  hill  of  Parnassus 
They  leaned  on  the  staff  you  provided. 

How  noble,  how  grand  was  the  mission 
The  Master  of  Music  assigned  you, 
To  tune  all  the  tongues  of  the  people 
To  strains  that  were  helpful  and  holy. 
To  guide  like  a  voice  in  the  darkness 
The  feet  of  the  lonely  and  straying, 
To  cheer  the  forlorn  and  the  weary, 
To  sing  away  tears  from  the  weeping. 

And  what  shall  the  end  be,  and  guerdon, 
For  years  full  of  blessing  and  beauty? 
"  Well  done,  faithful  servant,  come  higher ; 
Come  up  to  the  music  eternal ! " 

Pass  on  to  the  Land  of  the  Singers, 
O  sweetest  of  all  the  Musicians. 
Afar  from  the  Valley  of  Shadows, 
Up,  up  to  the  Brightness  and  Glory. 
Away  o'er  the  Mountains  of  Beauty, 
Whose  tops  all  aglow  with  the  shining 
And  sheen  of  the  Gates  of  the  City, 
Make  light  all  the  way  of  the  journey. 
Sing  on  to  the  close  of  the  journey, 
Sing  ever  when  it  shall  be  ended, 
For  they  who  have  lessened  earth's  sorrows 
Have  songs  in  their  hearts  through  the  ages. 

Dear  Master  and  friend,  I  salute  you ! 

James  R.  Murray. 


222  THE    STORY    OF   A    MUSICAL    LIFE. 

To  conclude,  I  can  not  imagine  a  pleasanter  life  for  my- 
self than  the  one  I  now  live.  When  not  at  normals  or  con- 
ventions, I  work  at  home,  because  in  the  city  I  should  be 
liable  to  frequent  interruptions.  My  working-room  is  at  the 
top  of  the  house,  to  be  as  far  from  the  parlor  and  the  piano 
as  possible,  but  the  view  from  this  elevation  is  an  abundant 
compensation  for  the  trouble  of  reaching  it.  I  have  only  to 
raise  my  eyes  to  look  east  over  the  ever-changing  waters 
of  the  lake,  or  north  over  one  of  its  bays  to  the  city  center, 
seven  miles  away.  Mr.  K.  V.  Church,  of  whom  I  have 
spoken,  is  still  manager  of  the  Chicago  house,  and  I  am  at 
my  pleasant  quarters  in  his  establishment  at  a  certain  hour 
every  day,  in  case  any  one  wishes  to  see  me,  and  at  other 
times  if  I  am  wanted,  or  need  a  rest  from  my  work.  More 
than  fifty  trains  pass  each  way  every  day,  and  the  lovely  ride 
by  the  lake  can  not  be  equaled,  I  think,  in  the  world. 

My  wife  and  I  would  be  glad  to  be  permitted  to  see  our 
golden  wedding-day,  which  will  be  in  1895,  and  still  more, 
to  look  over  into  the  twentieth  century,  which  will  be  five 
years  later;  but  if  that  can  not  be,  we  will  be  thankful  for 
the  pleasant  life  we  have  lived  here,  and  hope  for  a  pleas- 
anter and  still  more  useful  life  hereafter. 


APPENDIX. 


T^OLLOWING  are  lists  of  my  books  and  of  nearly  all  my 
-A-  sheet-music  compositions.  Then  come  the  two  part- 
songs  spoken  of  in  my  story  as  having  been  sung  by  my 
Quartet.  Then  two  of  my  compositions  of  a  medium  grade 
of  difficulty  (there  is  not  room  for  a  specimen  of  the  more 
difficult  ones,  "The  Storm  Chorus"  in  "The  Haymakers" 
for  example),  then  the  best  known  of  my  "  People's  Songs." 


The  Young  Ladies'  Choir 

Root  &  Sweetzer's  Collection,  1849 

Academy  Vocalist 1852 

The  Flower  Queen      ....  1852 
The  Shawm  (with  W.  B.  Brad- 
bury)           1853 

Daniel .    .  1853 

The  Pilgrim  Fathers     .    .    .1854 
The   Young   Men's   Singing 

Book 1855 

The  Musical  Album    ....  1855 

The  Sabbath  Bell 1856 

The  Haymakers 1857 

The  Festival  Glee  Book    .    .  1859 

Belshazzar's  Feast i860 

The  Diapason       i860 

The  Silver  Chime        .    .    .    .1862 


BOOKS. 

1847       The  Christian  Graces        .       1862 

The  Silver  Lute 1862 

School  for  Cabinet  Organ    .  1863 

The  Bugle  Call 1863 

The  Musical  Curriculum  .    .  1864 

The  New  Coronet 1865 

The  Cabinet  Organ  Compan- 
ion    1865 

The  Guide  to  the  Pianoforte  1865 
Our  Song  Birds  (4  small  pam- 
phlets)      1866 

The  Forest  Choir 1867 

The  Musical  Fountain  .    .    .  1867 

Chapel  Gems 1868 

The  Triumph 1S68 

The  Prize       ........  1870 

The  Glory 1872 


223 


224 


APPENDIX. 


The  Hour  of  Praise   ....  1872 
The  Normal  Musical  Hand- 
book          1872 

The   New   Musical   Curricu- 
lum   1872 

The  Mannerchor 1873 

The  Model  Organ  Method  .  1873 
The  Trumpet  of  Reform      .  1874 

The  Song  Era 1874 

The  National  School  Singer  1875 
The   Choir    and    Congrega- 
tion       1875 

The  New  Song  Era  ....  1877 
The  Song  Tournament  .  .  1878 
First  Years  in  Song-Land  .  1879 
The  Palace  of  Song  ....  1879 
The  New  Choir  and  Congre- 
gation       1879 

The     Young      Organist     at 

Home      1880 

The  Chorus  Castle      ....  1880 

Under  the  Palms 1880 

The  New  Flower  Queen  .  .  1880 
The  Teachers'  Club  ....  1881 
David,  the  Shepherd  Boy  .  1882 
The  Realm  of  Song  ....  1882 
Pure    Delight    (with    C.    C. 

Case) 1883 

Catching  Kriss  Kringle    .    .  1883 


The  Choicest  Gift 1883 

Our  Song  World  (with  C.  C. 

Case) 1884 

Santa  Claus'  Mistake  .  .  .  1885 
Wondrous  Love  (with  C.  C. 

Case) 1885 

The  Name  Ineffable  .    .    .    .1886 

Flower  Praise 1886 

The  Waifs'  Christmas  .  .  .1886 
Faith  Triumphant  ....  1886 
The  Empire  of  Song     .    .    .  1887 

The  Repertoire 1887 

Judge  Santa  Claus      .        .    .  1887 

The  Pillar  of  Fire 1887 

The  Glorious  Cause  ....  1888 
Snow  White  and  the  Seven 

Dwarfs 1888 

Building  the  Temple         .    .  1889 

Santa  Claus  &  Co 1889 

'Bethlehem 1889 

The  Arena  of  Song  (with  C. 

C.  Case) 1890 

Florens,  the  Pilgrim  ....  1890 
The  Wonderful  Story    .    .    .  1890 

Jacob  and  Esau 1890 

Christmas  and  Easter  Selec- 
tions annually  from  1878 
to  1890. 


APPENDIX. 


225 


SHEET    MUSIC. 


Annie  Lowe. 

Away  on  the  Prairie  Alone. 

Away !  Away !  the  Track  is  White. 

Battle-cry  of  Freedom. 

Beautiful  Maiden  Just  Over  the 
Way. 

Be  Sure  You  Call  as  You  Pass  By. 

Birds   Have   Sought  the   Forest, 
Shade. 

Bright-eyed  Little  Nell  (Arrang- 
ed). 

Brother,  Tell  Me  of  the  Battle. 

Blow  de  Horn. 

Can  the  Soldier  Forget  ? 

Columbia's  Call. 

Comrades,  All  Around  is  Bright- 
ness. 

Come  to  Me  Quickly. 

Come,  Oh!  Come  With  Me. 

Day  of  Columbia's  Glory. 

Dearest  Spot  of  Earth  to  Me  is 
Home. 

Don't  You  See  Me  Coming? 

Dreaming,  Ever  Dreaming. 

Down  the  Line. 

Dearest  Brother,  We  Miss  Thee. 

Early  Lost,  Early  Saved. 

Eyes  That  are  Watching. 
»    Flying  Home. 

Father  John. 
•  Fare  Thee  Well!  Kitty  Dear. 

Father  Abraham's  Reply. 

Farewell !     Father,    Friend    and 
Guardian. 

First  Gun  is  Fired. 

Forward !  Boys,  Forward ! 

Fling  Out  the  Flag  ! 

Good  Bye!  Old  Glory. 
•  Glad  to  Get  Home. 


Gather  up  the  Sunbeams. 

God    Bless    Our     Brave    Young 
Volunteers! 

Glory  !    Glory  !  Or  the  Little  Oc- 
toroon. 

Grieve  not  the  Heart  that  Loves 
Thee. 

Gently  Wake  the  Song. 

Greenwood  Bell. 
■  Hazel  Dell. 

Hasten  on  the  Battle-field ! 

Hear,  Hear,  the  Shout ! 

Hear  the  Cry  that  Comes  Over 
the  Sea ! 

Health  is  a  Rosy  Maiden. 

He's  Coming  Again. 

Home's  Sweet  Harmony. 

Home  Again  Returning. 
•  Honeysuckle  Glen. 

Have  Ye  Sharpened  your  Swords  ? 

How  it  Marches,  the  Flag  of  Our 
Union! 

Honor  to  Sheridan. 

Homeless  and  Motherless. 

He  Giveth  His  Beloved  Sleep. 

Here  in  My  Mountain  Home. 

Hunting  Song. 

Hundred  Years  Ago. 

I'm  Married. 

I  Ask  No  More. 

Independent  Farmer. 

If  He  Can. 

If  Maggie  Were  My  Own. 

In  the  Storm. 

I  Dreamt  an  Angel  Came. 

I  had  a  Gentle  Mother. 

Johnny,  the  Little  Cripple's,  Song. 

Jenny  Lyle. 

Just  before  the  Battle,  Mother. 


226 


APPENDIX. 


Just  after  the  Battle. 

Just  over  the  Mountain. 

Kind  Friends,  One  and  All. 

Kiss  Me,  Mother,  Kiss  your  Dar- 
ling. 

Kittie  Ryan. 

Liberty  Bird. 

Lay  Me  Down  and  Save  the 
Flag! 

Let  Me  Go ! 

Let  Me  Carry  your  Pail,  Dear. 

Laughing  Song. 

Love  Thy  Mother,  Little  One. 

Love  Lightens  Labor. 

Lo  !  The  Clouds  are  Breaking. 

Look  on  the  Bright  Side. 

Mary  of  the  Glen. 

Mabel. 

May  Moore. 

•  May  of  the  Valley. 
Music  Far  Away. 

•  Mother,  Sweet  Mother,  Why  Lin- 

ger Away. 
.  Music  of  the  Pine. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Williams. 
My  Cottage  Home,  Dear  Mother. 
My  Mother,  She  is  Sleeping. 
My  Beau  that  Went  to  Canada. 
My  Father's  Bible. 
My  Heart  is  Like  a  Silent  Lute. 
My  Weary  Heart  is  All  Alone. 
No  Section  Lines. 
North  and  South. 

•  Never  Forget  the  Dear  Ones. 
Nobody  Cares. 

New    Voice     in     the     Heavenly 

Choir. 
O !  Blow  de  Horn. 
On,   On,   On,    the     Boys     Came 
Marching. 
'  On  the  Shore, 


O !     Are   Ye   Sleeping,   Maggie  ? 
(Arranged.) 

On  Old  Potomac's  Shore. 

Only  Four. 

Our  Protective  Union. 

One  Word. 

Old  Friends  and  True  Friends. 

On  the  Eve  of  Battle. 

Only  Waiting. 

O!  Will  my  Mother  Never  Come? 

On  !  Boys,  On  ! 

O!  Mother,  Sing  to  Me  of  Heaven. 

Pictures  of  Memory. 

Poverty  Flat. 

Pity,  O  Savior !  (Arranged.) 

Poor  Robin's  Growing  Old. 

Poor  Carlotta ! 
»  Rosalie,  the  Prairie  Flower. . 

Reaper  on  the  Plain. 

Rock  Me  to  Sleep,  Mother. 

Rosabel. 

Rock,  Rock  the  Cradle  ! 

Sing,  Birds  and  Brooks  and  Blos- 
soms. 

Sing  Me  to  Sleep,  Father. 

See,  the  Sky  is  Darkling,  Boys. 

She  has  Told  it  to  the  Winds. 

Softly,  She  Faded. 

Somewhere. 

So  Long  as  Love  is  Left. 

Scenes  of  Happiness,  I  Love  Ye. 

Starved  in  Prison. 

Stand  up  for  Uncle  Sam,  Boys! 

Sweet  Morn,  How  Lovely  is  thy 
Face! 

Swinging  All  Day  Long. 

The  Way  is  Long,  My  Darling. 

They    Have    Broken     up    Their 
Camps. 

The  Liberty  Bird. 

The  Mason's  Home, 


APPENDIX. 


227 


The  Quiet  Days  When  We  Are 
Old. 

The  Road  to  Slumberland. 

The  Church  Within  the  Wood. 

The  Father's  Coming. 

The  Hidden  Path. 

The  Forest  Requiem. 

The  Hand  that  Holds  the  Bread. 

The  Miner's  Protege. 

The  New  Voice  In  the  Heavenly 
Choir. 

The  Price  of  a  Drink. 

The  Star  of  Bethlehem. 

The  Old  Canoe. 

The  Old  Folks  Are  Gone. 

Tramp  !  Tramp  !  Tramp  ! 

The  Trumpet  Will  Sound  in  the 
Morning. 

The  Time  of  the  Heart. 

There's  Music  in  the  Air. 

They  Sleep  in  the  Dust. 

That  Little  German  Home.  (Ar- 
ranged.) 

Touch  the  Keys  Softly. 


The  Voice  of  Love. 

The  World  as  it  is. 

Turn  the  Other  Way,  Boys  !  (With 
J.  R.  Murray.) 

Vacant  Chair. 

Voices  of  the  Lake. 

Wake  !  Lady,  Wake  ! 

We'll  Fight  it  Out  Here  on  the 
Old  Union  Line. 

Within  the  Sound  of  the  Ene- 
my's Guns. 

Who'll  Save  the  Left  ? 

What  will  People  Say  ? 

Where  are  the  Wicked  Folks 
Buried  ? 

Where  Earth  and  Heaven  Meet. 

When  the  Mail  Comes  in. 

We  are  Going  Away  from  the  Old 
Home. 

We  can  Make  Home  Happy. 

We'll  Meet  in  Heaven,  Father. 

Will  you  Come  to  Meet  Me,  Dar- 
ling? 

Yes, We'll  be  True  to  Each  Other 


My  principal  instrumental  compositions  are  in  the  in- 
struction books  mentioned.  Besides  these  there  are  two 
series  in  sheet  form  called  respectively  "Camps,  Tramps,  and 
Battle  Fields"  and  "Home  Scenes."     There  are  besides — 


The  March  of  the  600,000 
Italia  Grand  March. 


228 


SLUMBER  SWEETLY,  DEAREST. 


Andante.    Sempre  e  piano  legato. 


Wm.  Mason. 


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230       A  VOICE  FROM  THE  LAKE.     Continued. 


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THE  HAZEL  DELL.  Concluded. 


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Modornto. 


ROSALIE,  THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER.  237 

Wurzel.    (G.  F.  1; 


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1.  On     the  dist  -  ant  prai  -  rie,  Where  the  heath-er    wild 

2.  On    that  dist  -  ant  prai  -  rie,  When    the  days  were  long, 

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238  ROSALIE,  THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER.     Continued. 


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ROSALIE,  THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER.    Concluded.  230 

<  noRis.  (Repeat  pp). 


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1  &  2.  Fair  as  a    li  -  ly,  joyous  and  free,  Light  of  that  prairie  home  was  she. 


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Ev'ry  one  who  knew  her,  felt  the  gentle  pow'r  of  Rosalie  the  prairie  flower. 


Far  away  she's  blooming  in  a  fadeless  bower,  sweet  Rosalie  the  prairie  flower. 


WtMX 


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240 


."Maestoso 


THE  BATTLE  CRY  OF  FREEDOM. 

Geo.  F.  Root. 

N-i — IN       fs b S 


-=-fr 


> ; 


v_ 


^-+ 


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1.  Yes,  we'll  ral-ly  round  the  flag,  boys,  we'll  ral-ly  once     a  -  gain, 

2.  We    are  springing  to  the  call    of     our  brothers  gone  be -fore, 

3.  We  will  wel-come  to    our  numbers  the    loy  -  al,  true  and  brave, 

4.  So  we're  springing  to  the  call  from  the  East  and  from  the  West, 


± 


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Shouting  the  bat-tie  cry  of  Freedom,  We  will  ral  -  ly  from  the  hill- 
Shouting  the  bat-tie  cry  of  Freedom,  And  we'll  fill  the  vacant  ranks 
Shouting  the  bat-tie  cry  of  Freedom,  And  al  -  tho'  they  may  be  poor, 
Shouting  the  bat-tie  cry  of  Freedom,  And  we'll  hurl  the  reb-el    crew 


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side,  we'll  gather  from  the  plain,  Shouting  the  battle  cry  of  Freedom, 
with  a  million  freemen  more,  Shouting  the  battle  cry  of  Freedom, 
not  a  man  shall  be  a  slave,  Shouting  the  battle  cry  of  Freedom, 
from  the  land  we  love  the  best,   Shouting  the  battle  cry  of  Freedom. 


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THE  BATTLE  CRY  OF  FREEDOM.     Continued.  241 


4   II  OKI   S 


-<? 


The  Un    -   ion     for  -  ev 


Ilur-rah!     boys,  Hur-rah! 


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The  Un   -   ion     for  -  ev   -  er,       Ilur-rah !     boys,  Hur-rah ! 


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Down    with    the  trai  -  tor, 
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Up       with    the  star ;  While    we 


Down    with    the 


Up       with    the  star ;  While    we 


» 


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242  THE  BATTLE  CRY  OF  FREEDOM.     Concluded. 


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ral    -    ly     round  the  flag,     boys,     ral    -  ly      once     a  -  gain, 


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ral    -    ly     round  the  flag,     boys,     ral  -  ly      once      a  -  gain, 


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►Shout  -  ing        the     bat   -    tie 


-V- 
cry 


of       Free 


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Shout  - ing        the     bat 


tie        cry        of       Free 


5     5 


dom. 


-#■-#•        4S 


1 

m 


JUST  BEFORE  THE  BATTLE,  MOTHER. 


24c 


Tenderly. 


Geo.  F.  Root. 


-k-^=i 


N^--*- 


-0^- 


Just   before  the  battle,  Mother,        I     am  thinking  most  of  you, 
Oh,     I  long  to  see  you,  Mother,     And  the  loving  ones  at  home, 
Hark  !  I  hear  the  bugles  sounding,  "Pis  the  signal  for  the  fight, 


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&  — 


While  upon  the  field  we  re  watching,   With  the  en  -  e-my  in  view — 
But  I'll  never  leave  our  banner,      Till    in  honor   I  can  come 
Now  may  God  protect  us,  mother,       As     he   ev-er  does  the  right. 


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Comrades  brave  are  round  me  ly-ing,       Filled  with  tho  ts  of  home  and  God  ;   For 
Tell  the  traitors  all  around  you,     That  their  cruel  words  we  know,    In 
Hear  the  "  Battle-Cry  of  Freedom, "*    How  it  swells  upon  the  air,      Oh, 


I 


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■25T  T5T 

*  In  some  of  the  divisions  of  our  army  the  "  Battle-Cry  "  is  sung,  when  going 
into  action,  by  order  of  the  commanding  officers. 


244      JUST  BEFORE  THE  BATTLE.    Continued. 


± 


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well  they  know  that  on  the  morrow     Some  will  sleep  beneath  the  sod. 
ev  -  'rv  battle  kill  our  soldiers         By  the  help  they  give  the  foe. 
yes,  we'll  rally  round  the  standard,      Or  we'll  perish  nobly  there. 


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Fare  -  well,  Mother,  youmaynev-er 


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you  may  nev-er,  Mother, 


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Fare  -  well,  Mother,  you  may  nev-er,  you  may  nev-er,  Mother, 


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JUST  BEFORE  THE  BATTLE.     Concluded.      245 


|        j    J—*- 


I 


Press  me    to  your  heart  a  -  gain;         But  oh,  you'll  not  forget  me 


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Press  me    to  your  heart  a   -    gain;        But  oh,  you'll  not  forget  me, 


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Mother, 


If     I'm  numbere'd  with  the  slain. 


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IS  "h  -N- 


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you  will  not  forget  me, 


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Mother,  you  will  not  forget  me,    If      I'm  numbere'd  with  the  slain. 


I 


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V— g1— W— U     L/     Li     L/     L> 


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246 


TRAMP!  TRAMP!  TRAMP! 


Tempo  di  Harris. 


Geo.  F.  Root. 

N h -. 


■—& + 

cell       I      sit     Thinking  Mother  dear,  of 
front    we  stood  When  their  fiercest  charge  they 
pris  -  on    cell    We     are  wait-ing  for     the 


1.  In    the  pris  -on 

2.  In    the  bat  -  tie 

3.  So  with-in     the 


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you,  And  our  bright  and  happy  home  so  far     a-  way,  And  the 

made,  And  they  swept  us  off,  a  hundred  men  or  more,  But    be- 

day,  That  shall  come  to  o-pen  wide  the  i  -  ron    door.  And  the 


=f 


TR 


3*=34=* 


^ 


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Pi 


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tears  they  fill    my  eyes  Spite  of     all  that    I      can    do,     Tho'  I 
fore  we  reached  their  lines  They  were  beaten  back  dismayed,  And  we 
hol-low  eye  grows  bright,  And  the  poor  heart  almost  gay,     As 


we 


» 


o 


-&- 


&- 


TRAMP!  TRAMP!  TRAMP!     Continued. 


247 


i 


-o- 


-£— 


try  to  cheer  ray  cora-rades  and  be  gay. 
heard  the  cry  of  vie  -  t'ry  o'er  and  o'er, 
think    of     see  -  ing  home  and  friends  once  more. 


fin 


» 


-&- 


^ 


~&- 


-&- 


"25" 


m 


When  the  chorus  is  sung,  this  may  be  omitted  after  the  first  verse. 


J? 


-&- 


Tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  the  boys  are  march-ing,  Cheer  up,  comrades, 
Tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  the  boys  are  march-ing,  Cheer  up,  comrades, 
Tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  the  boys  are  march-ing,     Cheer  up,  comrades, 


i 


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-f-b j-n 

1 r 1 * K-i 

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(?        •                                f>              ^ 

n.          C     m    * 

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fm"      ■       y 

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s  .   J^ 

1          4       !  , 

2 

they  will  come,          And  be-neath  the  star 
they  will  come,           And  be-neath  the  star 
they  will  come,           And  be-neath  the  star  ■ 

fi     l-i 

-  ry    flag 

-  ry    flag 
•  ry     flag 

We  shall 
WTe  shall 
We  shall 

IF  i  V 

ikb 

^ 

N» 

fRv        u 

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ffi    • 

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F^T- J T—                   — P*^— r- 

* 

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. — ' 

248        TRAMP!  TRAMP!  TRAMP!    Continued. 

When  the  chorus  is  not  suny,  end  here. 


& 


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breathe  the  air  a-gain,  Of  the  free-land  in  our  own  beloved  home. 
breathe  the  air  a-gain,  Of  the  free-land  in  our  own  beloved  home, 
breathe  the  air  a-gain,  Of  the  free-land  in  our  own  beloved  home. 

d> £=  — 


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l£i 


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sr 


CHORUS. 


r  •  g    ^-i-^- 


* 


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fczfc 


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Tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  the  boys  are  march  -  ing,    Cheer  up,  comrades, 


£=q: 


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s     S     S 


marching  on,  O  cheer  up,  com 


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Tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  the  boys  are  march-ing  on,  O  cheer  up,  com 


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TRAMP!  TRAMP!  TRAMP!    Concluded.        249 


H^-#     '     *~1 


?=£ 


they  will  come, 


And  beneath  the  star-ry  flag     We  shall 


rades,         they    will  come,  And  beneath  the  star-ry  flag     We  shall 


§*? 


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breathe  the  air 
3fc= 


a-gain,  Of  the  free-land  in  our  own  beloved    home. 


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IS     S     N     N 


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breathe  the  air    a-gain,  Of  the  free-land  in  our  own  beloved    home. 


§S 


£5 


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it- y 


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mm 


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250 


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THE  VACANT  CHAIR. 


N.  P.  W. 

With  cxpresnion. 

-rtr-t 


Geo.  F.  Root. 


ft>3    .     »  1 

l_^_^* W- Ik 


^=3 


-h— h- 


^^ 


K    h    N  — fr-d 


-N— * 


-•  .« 


£3 


K— *— 


1.  We  shall  meet,  but  we  shall  miss  him,  There  will  be     one  vacant 

2.  At  our  fire   -    side,  sad  and  lonely,       Often  will      the  bo-sora 

3.  True  they  tell     us  wreaths  of    glo-ry         Ev-er  more  will  deck  his 


— m 1 1 1 1 1- 

-0-0-0 — f — d — ' 0-0-0-0-0 

■0-0-0-     #     -#■  -0-0-0-0-0- 


^Jgjg-Jg-Jg- 


I 


O 


& 


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t 


chair  ; 

swell, 

brow, 


We  shall  lin  -  ger  to  ca  -  ress  him  While  we 
At  re-mem  -  brance  of  the  sto  -  ry  How  our 
But  this  soothes  the    an-guish  on  -  ly       Sweeping 


fttt=t 


m^, 


^t- 


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1 — h- 


p 


breathe       our  even-ing  prayer. 
no       -        ble  Wil-lie     fell*; 
o'er  our  heart-strings  now. 


When  a  year       a  -  go    we 
How  he  strove   to   bear  our 
Sleep  to-day,      oh,  ear  -  ly 


-0 * 0 M M ' 1 i 1 1 1 ' 0-0-0- 

*       •+       *  ♦  ♦  J**}*  ■+-+-+ 


v 


25fc 


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/ 


THE  VACANT  CHAIR.    Continued. 


251 


i2^^? 


P  W    P  * 


-#-*-V- 


^^ 


Sh 


--N- 


-^- 


gathered, 
ban-ner 
fall  -en, 


Joy  was    in  his  mild  bine  eye, 

Thro' the  thick  -  est     of     the  light, 

In    thy  green      and  nar-row    bed, 


#— *— # — •— j- — u  an 


.n- 


But     a 
And  up- 
Dirg-es 


-# — « — #- 
• — * — #- 


§-%E 


^ 


a 


-— <»- 


■^r 


o- 


gold  -  en  chord  is  severed,  And  our  hopes     in    ru  -  in  lie. 
hold  our  country's  honor,     In  the  strength  of  manhood's  might, 
from  the  pine  and  cypress    Mingle  with     the  tears  we  shed. 


0-0— l — 0 r-S-5-5 — ' — 5-  -J— 0-0-0 


m* 


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CHORUS. 


^ 


-— «- 


-&- 


-N— f^-?v 


#-i-#- 


£=* 


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We  shall  meet,  but  we  shall  miss  him,  There  will  be      one  vacant 


r>      *     S 


Es     h     N> 


-\ p;  pip   i        i     >iL# 


4     4     4 


N     N     N  t 


A— N- 


4     4     4 


A=T 


^— *- 


2U- 


We  shall  meet,  but  we  shall  miss  him,  There  will  be        one  vacant 


.       ^   .   s 


*    *    r    ~ 


252 


THE  VACANT  CHAIR.    Concluded. 


chair  ;     We  shall  lin-ger  to  caress  him,    When  we  breathe  our  evening 


m 


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N— 


s  .  m  — i ^ — h — i- 


*"£ 


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chair ;     We  shall  lin-ger   to  caress  him,     When  we  breathe  our  evening 


3$S 


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V=j^b#=T^— *— * 


t^zjj  1 1         ^-^^- 


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prayer. 


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prayer. 


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THERE'S  MUSIC  IN  THE  AIR.  253 

FOR  MENS'  VOICES.-  G.  F.  Root. 


i 


ft** 


15o<l<*rato. 


** 


-» —•      P      * 


& 


-S- 


K Kr K; K" 


~H H H \ 

-0 0- 


0—*- 


±=t 


1.  There's  music  in  the     air,       When  the  infant  morn  is  nigh,     And 

t 


2.  There's  music  in  the     air,       When  the  noontide's  sul-Trv  beam     Re- 


m 


=P=F 


-*     4     0~* 


&~ 


-fct 


-zN-zN- 


*=: 


s- 


3.  There's  music  in  the     air,       When  the  twilight's  gen-tle    sigh       Is 


§W 


=F 


0—0—*—*—0- 


0     0     4     + 


-p1 — s? — y — y~ 


^ 


te 


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22 


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v    ^    V— V- 


faint  its  blush   is      seen 


v? 


On  the  bright  and  laughing  sky. 


fgg^ 


£ 


h — h — »- 


?      ^      ^      k* 


fleets  a     gold-en      light 


On  the  distant  mount-ain  stream. 


££ 


£=£ 


-h-K-h   h   1    -4: 


^K— g- 


lost   on   evening's  breast,  As  its  pensive  beauties  die. 


%A^-H-^ 


s 


•* — * — * — « — * — *- 


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If  sung  by  mixed  voices,  let  the  alto  be  an  octave  lower. 


254     THERE'S  MUSIC  IN  THE  AIR.    Continued. 


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When  beneath  some     grateful    shade  Sorrow's  ach-ing 


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THE  SHINING  SHORE. 


Rev.  David  Nelson. 

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1.  My  days  are  glid-ing  swift-ly    by,  And    I,      a   pilgrim  stranger, 

2.  We'll  gird  our  loins,  my  brethren  dear,  Our  heav'nly  home  discerning  ; 

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Our    ab-sent  Lord  has  left  us  word,  Let    ev -'ry  lamp  be  burn-ing. 

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3  Should  coming  days  be  cold  and  dark, 

We  need  not  cease  our  singing; 

That  perfect  rest  naught  can  molest, 

Where  golden  harps  are  ringing. 

4  Let  sorrow's  rudest  tempests  blow, 

Each  chord  on  earth  to  sever; 
Our  King  says,  Come,  and  there's  our  home, 
Forever,  oh,  forever. 


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